


What Was Lost

by psikitty



Series: Secrets [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 123,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psikitty/pseuds/psikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tevinter has taken everything from Fenris. Now it's time for him to take it all back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Almost three years to the day after returning from Weisshaupt, Fenris' world fell apart.

He had been gone a month in the Deep Roads, and had just this moment returned. He still wore his sword strapped to his back and the backpack he kept all of his provisions in were in his hands, slipped off his shoulders when he had exited the basement and had seen the sun for the first time in weeks. His armor were dented and rent in places, and dried blood was splattered on his face and hair. With little to no light in the Deep Roads, it was impossible to ever get truly clean.

Clean was what he had wanted. He was tired and bone weary. He and Denerou had lost the mage that had come with them, a young warden named Heather. Anders wasn't going to take the news well. He took it personally when a mage died, as if he hadn't prepared them enough and had failed them somehow.

Fenris wanted nothing more than a chance to bathe, a hot meal and Anders, in no particular order. That wasn't true. He wanted Anders first. He hated to be away from him for so long. The drive to get back to the mage was what kept him safe in the Deep roads. It made him fight harder and smarter when he was down there.

With the Architect gone, the Deep Roads under Amaranthine were filling once again with darkspawn. Their numbers had increased steadily over the years, but they rarely ventured to the surface. They were more likely than not to be found in the deepest areas underground.

As Warden-Commander, Howe was making it his mission to map out as much of the Deep Roads that wove like a spider's web under Ferelden. They were constantly being sent down to chronicle darkspawn activities. Howe had a theory that if they could keep records of what the darkspawn were doing and where they could be found, they might be able to predict if they were coming close to finding a new Archdemon.

It was an ambitious plan, but Howe was nothing if not determined. Aedan had taken an interest in it, and had asked the other warden outposts—those that could spare the men—to do the same.

There was also the continual search for the Architect.

No sign had been seen of him since the day Merrill had released him. Wardens all over Thedas had been instructed to keep an eye out for him, but not to approach if he should be found. He was becoming a proverbial unicorn, always spotted, but no evidence of him being there ever being found.

Fenris slowed to a stop when he saw Howe and several wardens standing in the courtyard. Nate had a solemn look on his face, and he clutched a wrapped package in his hand. "Fenris…" His voice was grim and Fenris felt his heart speed up as dread descended on him.

"I don't want to hear it." Fenris took a step forward and the wardens near Nate closed ranks around him. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Howe," he began.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, but you have to listen to me." Nate blew out a breath and tossed the package at Fenris. The elf caught it deftly in mid-air. Some of the parchment wrapping tore under the steel claws covering his fingers.

Setting his pack on the ground, Fenris ripped the parchment the rest of the way as his eyes locked with Nate's. "I have no time for your games, Howe. I'm tired and filthy. Spit it out."

Instead of answering, Nate glanced behind Fenris to Denerou. "Take his sword."

The heavy weight of his greatsword was lifted from his back quicker than Fenris could process what Nate had said. He whirled around and almost dropped the package. "What are you playing at, Howe? What's going on?"

Denerou gave Fenris an apologetic look as he walked over to Nate. Taking the sword from his hands, Nate nodded at Denerou. "Thanks." Setting the tip of the sword into the ground, Nate folded his hands on the pommel.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, but it's for your own safety." Nate flicked a finger towards the package. "We received that a week ago. At first, we didn't understand what it meant, but it soon became apparent."

Tearing the rest of the parchment away, Fenris found a folded piece of paper. He lifted it from its wrapping, letting the parchment fall to the ground to be snatched away by the breeze. The paper was finely made, a crisp white that was rarely seen outside of those that could afford it. It was blank, and Fenris gave Nate a questioning look.

"Turn it over and open it."

When he did, Fenris forgot how to breathe. Stamped in blood red wax was the official seal of the Imperium. It had been cracked open, but Fenris would know it anywhere. A sun with dragons twining around it stared up at him. With shaking fingers, Fenris opened the letter.

The looping and elegant script of Arcanum was inked in large letters. Where Fenris had admired the quality of the paper, he now knew only revulsion. It wasn't unheard of for human skin to be used by the magisters in the place of parchment.

Something had been folded into the letter, and it dropped to the ground, forgotten as Fenris' eyes scanned the contents. The trembling in his hands traveled up his arms the more he read, until his whole body was shaking with fear and horror.

_We have him. Come to Minrathous if you want him back, little wolf._

With wide eyes filled with dawning terror, Fenris glanced down to the ground. Next to his boot lay a hank of blond hair, the strands gathered together with a hair tie that was the exact match for the one that Fenris wore on his wrist.

The scream that burst forth from Fenris' mouth as he dropped to his knees, was like nothing the wardens had heard before. It was full of anguish that was wrenched from the soul. He clutched what had once been Anders' ponytail in his fist, and his eyes darted up towards Nate.

"You…" Fenris' voice was full of deadly intent. Later, much later, Fenris would understand why Nate had to tell him the way he did. There were no words, no easy way to tell someone that your lover had been snatched away.

But later was not now.

With a howl of fury, Fenris' brands flared to life. His green eyes became enveloped by the bright blue light of the lyrium under his skin. They tracked Nate like a predator with prey as he took a step back and held his hands up. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I'm so sorry. We'll get him back, I promise you. We—"

Another scream of rage escaped his lips and he lunged for Nate, springing from his crouched position. As he collided with the man and knocked them both to the ground, his hand sank into Nate's chest.

There but not there, in the Fade, but also in the waking world. Fenris' fingers slipped through armor and clothing, sliding through the cracks that no human eye could see. They moved through flesh and bone, until his whole hand was deep inside Howe, up to his wrist. Nate's mouth gaped as his mind and body tried to process-then reject-what was happening.

Fenris' lips curled in a parody of a smile. "I trusted you to watch over him. You gave me your word, Howe. You told me that while I was gone he would be safe. I should have known better. You lost my sister as well, did you not?" When Nate didn't answer quickly enough, Fenris shouted in his face. "Did you not!" Boots thundered on the ground as wardens came pouring out of the keep. Fenris was oblivious to it all, or he didn't care.

"So sorry…" Nate gasped. "Betrayed from the… inside. Blood mage… Have wardens… looking."

The laughter that burst forth from Fenris' lips was bitter. "Looking? You know where he is, where he's going. You will never find him." And they wouldn't either. Fenris knew it as sure as he knew that they must have been planning this for a long time. It had been too neatly done.

For three years Fenris had waited for the magisters to come for him, but nothing happened. The urge to constantly look over his shoulder had returned, and he had become paranoid. But when no magisters came, Fenris had slowly let his guard down. It had been a stupid mistake, and now Anders was paying the price.

Fenris would fight tooth and nail to prevent himself from being taken back to Minrathous. The magisters had to have known that, so they turned to the only thing that would ever drive Fenris to return—Anders. Once again Fenris had underestimated them. Their ambition and scheming would never stop. There were no limit on the amount of lives they would to destroy to get what they wanted.

With an abrupt yank of his arm, Fenris pulled his hand free. He got to his feet and stared down at Nate as he lay gasping in the dirt. He bent down and picked up his sword, sheathing it on his back. Without another word, Fenris turned and walked to his pack, scooping it up without breaking stride.

"Wait! Fenris!" Nate called after him. "You can't mean to go, not alone. I'll send wardens with you."

Fenris paused and shoved Anders' hair in his gauntlet. Sorrow welled up inside him as he felt the familiar glide of the silky strands against his skin. Once, long ago, he had told Anders that he was selfish for wanting to keep the mage close to him. It was because of that same selfishness that Anders had been targeted in the first place. If Fenris had done the right thing and left Anders, then the magisters would never had seen him as someone to be used.

But would it have been worth it? Would it have been worth the return to loneliness?

No. He wouldn't think like that. He wouldn't taint what he and Anders had together by doubting the time they had spent, and the life they had built. One way or another he would get Anders back, and when he did, he would make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.

Decision made, he looked over his shoulder at Nate. "No. I'll go alone. Others will only hinder me." When Nate opened his mouth to object, Fenris cut him off. "I will send you missives as I go, but nothing more. You don't know Minrathous, I do. And Nate… I'm sorry." Without giving Nate time to reply, Fenris walked out of Vigil's Keep.

* * *

Fenris stopped a mile from the Vigil and opened his pack to take stock of what he had. He had learned long ago not to pick up every little thing he found on the darkspawn. Still, he had a good amount of gold with him. The thought of it made the sorrow return.

_One year ago._

"Why do you think darkspawn have money on them?" Anders asked. He and Fenris lay naked in their bed, their legs tangled together.

Fenris was kissing his way down Anders' chest and he paused to look up, quirking an eyebrow at the mage. "Are you seriously asking me this now?"

Anders grinned that goofy smile he always had when he was about to say something he thought was especially amusing. "Well, yeah. Don't you ever think about it? I mean, what are they going to do with it? Maybe they think that they can go to Orzammar and spend it." Anders laughed. "Can you imagine it? Darkspawn in the market buying those little stone figurines that the dwarven children like to play with. Maybe one of them will become an avid collector, and will build a display case for them all, show them off to their darkspawn friends."

Despite himself, Anders startled a laugh out of Fenris. "You're insane. Why am I with you?"

Frowning down at him, Anders' face took on a look of mock offense. "I thought that was obvious, love. I'm handsome, witty, have a great body and I'm a demon in the sack. What more could you want?"

Fenris caressed down Anders' chest and stomach, his fingers tripping over the scar tissue that marred his skin. "Such a lucky elf I am," he cooed. It sounded wrong coming from Fenris, and now it was Anders' turn to laugh.

Pressing a kiss to Anders' navel, Fenris smiled against his skin. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of elfroot and Anders. The smell of elfroot that the mage worked with to make his potions clung to Anders. It was in his robes and on his skin, overlaying the musky smell that was Anders' own. Fenris could not see or smell elfroot without thinking of his lover. It reminded him of all the good things in his life, and how far the both of them had come.

_One mile from the Vigil, present day._

Ruthlessly, Fenris forced the anguish away. He would get Anders back, he had to believe that. Yanking the ties on his pack, he settled it on his back, shifting it so that it didn't hinder his sword if he needed it.

A week Nate had said. They'd had him for a week. Which mean that Anders was already on a ship, bound for one of a few places. They would have left from Amaranthine, but after that… Fenris had to choose, and he had to do it quickly. He could try and chase after them, or he could try and get ahead of them and find his lover in Minrathous. Either way would be costly if he chose wrong. He wasn't sure which magister had Anders, nor did he know where they would have gone once they left Ferelden. Landing in Kirkwall was obvious, but they could have just as easily taken a longer route to Antiva, bypassing the land for the sea.

Fenris quickened his strides and his boots pounded on the road, the urgency in his mind translating to his feet. He was so deep in his thoughts, that he didn't see her until he was almost on top of her.

"My… In a hurry are we?"

Skidding to a halt, Fenris sucked in his breath between his teeth. "You…"

Flemeth laughed. "Is that anyway to greet a friend?"

She was exactly as Fenris remembered her on that mountaintop so long ago. She looked ancient and young at the same time. Her head was held high and a smile was on her lips. It was the smile that unnerved Fenris most of all. It was full of cunning and secrets, things that Fenris wanted nothing to do with.

"Get out of my way, witch," he spat. "You're no friend of mine."

The smile didn't even slip at his tone. She seemed amused by him, as if Fenris was a small child that had said something unintentionally funny. "That's where you're wrong, Leto. You and I are about to become great friends indeed."

Fenris reached behind him and grasped the hilt of his sword. "How do you know that name?"

"Oh, I know all about you, more than you know yourself. Just as I knew all about young Cousland when I rescued him from Ostagar, and just as I knew all about the little Hawke when I saved her family as they fled the Blight. I know many things, Leto. I know that you are headed towards disaster. You will never see your mage again. As we speak, he slips further from your loving grasp." For a moment, a mere heartbeat's time, a predatory light entered her eyes. "But I can help you."

"No." Fenris would not bargain with a witch. No good would come of it. "You speak only lies. Now get out of my way."

"If you do not accept my help and advice, all will be lost. Not just your Anders, but everything in Thedas. You are about to walk into Minrathous and give the magisters exactly what they want. If you think you can take him back on your own, then you are sorely mistaken."

"State what you wish from me, and go," Fenris demanded. He didn't release his hold on his sword, but he did not draw it either. "Your kind do not give advice and help without a price. What is it you want, that you would delay me?"

"What I want?" Flemeth tilted her head to the side. "I want nothing more from you than two things. If you agree, I will take you to Kirkwall. What would have taken you weeks will take you a matter of hours."

"I want no part of whatever magic you think to conjure to accomplish such a feat."

"My magic will not touch you," Flemeth assured him. "Did Hawke not tell you of her flight to Amaranthine? You will travel the same way."

That gave Fenris pause. Hawke had told him how she, Carver, their mother and Aveline had flown on a dragon and escaped the darkspawn horde. If Fenris had not seen Flemeth turn into a dragon himself, he would not have believed her.

What was Anders worth? What was getting him back worth to him?

Everything. Anders was worth anything and everything.

"Your terms?" A part of Fenris was screaming at him, telling him not to do this. She was the Witch of the Wilds. Even in Tevinter they had stories of her, used to scare children into good behavior. She wasn't a magister whose motives were clear. She was old magic and old ways long forgotten.

A look of triumph passed over her face, and she didn't bother to hide it. "I will take you to Kirkwall, but no further. From there you must leave and travel to Weisshaupt. There you will ask Aedan Cousland one question. Do not allow him to tell you anything but the truth. He has hid from it for far too long, and it is time he faced what he has done."

Fenris was incredulous. "You tell me to ask Aedan for truths, but you speak in riddles. If you already know the answer, then you must tell me."

"Because it can only come from his lips," she said far too patiently. "His aid is essential."

"Then what must I ask?" Fenris growled between clenched teeth. He hated riddles. He could never understand why people couldn't just say what they meant and be done with it.

"You only need to ask the question that every warden has asked himself. How did Aedan Cousland survive killing the Archdemon?"

That took Fenris aback. He had wondered that himself at times. He knew how an Archdemon had to be killed by a warden, Aedan had made no secret of that. How he had lived where all others had died… It couldn't be as simple as asking a question. Aedan didn't speak on his battle with the Archdemon, and Fenris had always respected that. What was Aedan hiding? Damn Flemeth. She was going to force Fenris to pry when he should not.

Fenris of years passed would have lied to Flemeth and told her he would ask and never do it. But he wasn't that Fenris anymore, his word meant something to him, it had weight and merit. If he agreed to her tasks then he would see them done.

He took a deep breath. "And the second task?"

Flemeth laughed. "You will not thank me for it when you hear it, but if it is not done, you will fail."

She smiled when she told him.

* * *

Nate sat with his face buried in his hands in the dining hall. How was he going to fix this? He had tried to be what the Vigil needed, and under his watch the Architect had escaped and Anders had been snatched right from his bed.

No wonder Aedan had always been so antagonistic. Nate felt like screaming in frustration. He was a Grey warden and a Howe, he shouldn't be making mistakes like this. But he had, and now he had to make it right.

"Don't worry, Nate, I'm sure Anders and Fenris will be fine." Merrill sat next to him and patted him on the shoulder. "You sent out wardens after Fenris and you still have people looking for Anders. What more can you do?"

"Leave him alone, Merrill," Velanna said. She sat across from Merrill. "If he wants to flog himself into inaction then let him."

Nate's head shot up and he glared at her. "I am not—"

"She's right, boy." Oghren lifted his tankard and took a deep drink. He slammed it down on the table, rattling the plates. "Not your fault. Blood mages are bad business. Er…" He glanced at Merrill.

"What he means," Christopher interjected, "is that _some_ blood mages can be slippery. They thrive on subterfuge." Merrill beamed at Christopher and he smiled back.

Nate opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the dining hall burst open and the last person Nate had been expecting to see strode in.

Walking so briskly it was almost a run, Fenris headed right to their table. Chairs screeched on the floor as the wardens that sat there stood up as one.

"Fenris?" Nate started. "I—"

But Fenris ignored Nate completely. He stepped around him and grabbed Merrill by the arm. "You're coming with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Anders' stomach heaved and he vomited in the bucket he had been oh-so-helpfully given. The rocking of the ship wasn't helping, and he gripped the bucket in tight hands to prevent its contents from spilling.

The magebane the magisters were pouring into his system was starting to poison him. From that first cup of ale he had been given outside of the Vigil, to every bit of food he had consumed on the ship since then. He had tried to stop eating, and they had taken matters in their own hands, holding him down and slicing his arms with daggers laced with magebane.

He had decided to eat then. If they were going to do it anyway, it was best he wasn't weakened from lack of food as well.

He had trusted Sarah. Sweet Sarah from Ferelden. Young Sarah with her non-descript features and mousy brown hair. She had reminded him a little bit of himself, always running from the circle and the templars. She'd admitted that she'd had a hard time in the circle, she was too quiet and too trusting and the templars had taken advantage of that. She'd cried then in his arms.

What a bunch of shit.

Well, he knew better now. The magisters had been smart with the mage they'd sent to infiltrate the wardens. Now that he thought back, he could see there had always been signs. She couldn't heal worth a damn, but she had been able to conjure a mean fireball. She'd always been nearby as well, not intrusive the way Christopher had once been, but just… there, worming her way into his heart.

He had seen her like a little sister he'd never had.

They talked of the circles and Tevinter often. Maker, how much more stupid could he have been? He'd been so certain that he'd found another likeminded mage, that he hadn't been able to see passed her bright smiles.

She'd been with the wardens for six months before she had suggested the walk outside the keep, just to clear his head. Fenris was supposed to be back any day now, and Anders was getting anxious. She'd said that she'd sensed that Anders needed someone to talk to, and she was there with a willingness to listen.

How grateful he'd been. How _fucking_ grateful.

He never tasted the sleeping potion, or the magebane in the ale she'd brought with them for a small lunch on a grassy hill. He had poured out his heart to her, his fears for Fenris, and his hope of a safe return. She was supposed to have been his friend.

Anders slipped to the floor and rested his hot forehead on the cool wood. His nausea had started yesterday, and he knew it was only going to get worse. They didn't care how ill he became from the magebane, only that he was alive enough to be used as bait.

His hair fell over his face and he brushed it back irritably. The front half came down to just below his ears, while in the back… He gingerly touched the back of his head and felt the starkly uneven strands. Vanity reared its ugly head. He knew he should be grateful they hadn't taken a finger or an ear, but still…

His stomach muscles cramped as he sat back up. They were sore from the amount of vomiting he'd done in the past two days. He placed his hand on the bed, and pulled himself up on unsteady feet. The cabin he was locked in didn't lack for comforts. A bed, table and two chairs were bolted to the floor. He even had a dresser with clean clothes just for him. Above the dresser was an oval frame, the mirror that had once been housed inside it missing. They had thought of everything. They couldn't have him smashing it and using the shards on himself on others.

How long had it been since he had woken up in this room and been told what had happened? The magebane made his thoughts sluggish, and keeping track of the days and nights through the small round window set in one wall was becoming difficult. He thought it had been at least a week, but any more than that he wasn't sure.

Anders sat down on the edge of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. Fenris would come for him. He knew it and he feared it. They hadn't made it a secret of why he had been taken and where they were heading. He didn't want Fenris to come, but he knew that nothing was going to stop the elf. Better that Anders languished in Minrathous and died than Fenris ever stepping a foot in Tevinter.

He slammed a fist on the mattress. He had to be patient. There was nothing he could do on the ship. He had to bide his time and wait until they reached land. His time in the circle had taught Anders very well. He knew how to watch and wait. One didn't get the reputation he'd had for his daring escape attempts by being stupid. He needed to tap into those long dormant skills once more. Every jail had an exit. Anders just needed to look for it.

* * *

Fenris was never gladder to see Kirkwall. Riding on the back of a dragon over the ocean was not something that Fenris would have contemplated doing— _ever_. He had been admittedly terrified the whole way. He had clung tightly on the back of Flemeth and kept his eyes squeezed shut. No one was ever meant to fly like this, and for good reason. The thought that Flemeth would take a sharp turn and dump him into the sea didn't leave him the entire time. The tales of wardens flying through the air on griffons now seemed more insane than glorious.

His companions didn't share his sentiments.

Merrill and Christopher had whooped and hollered in joy and amazement, their cries loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the wind in his ears. Flemeth had perversely goaded them on, occasionally opening her mouth and letting out a jet of flame.

When Flemeth had told him that her second condition for her help was to bring Merrill along with him, Fenris had balked. He had spent as little time as possible around Merrill for the past three years. He didn't know how to talk to her, and every time he did, he was reminded in some small way what she was and what she could do—willingly. His distrust of mages had lessened, but blood mages… There was no helping them. All of Thedas reviled them, and for good reason. Demons did not care what your good intentions were, they didn't care about what a good person you might be, they took and twisted until your wants and desires were all that mattered in this world and the next. There had never been a blood mage that had not succumbed to temptation, Merrill was no exception.

He could see why Hawke and Cullen had fought about Merrill when she had been in Kirkwall. Fenris and Anders did the same thing. Why the two mages continued to defend the indefensible, he would never know.

There could be no reason that was acceptable to continence what Flemeth was asking him. That the witch wanted Merrill by his side was more than enough evidence for Fenris to turn the woman down and walk away.

That was until she had shouted after him that he must not love Anders enough to do what was required to save him.

He had turned back, unsheathing his sword as he did so, his eyes full of deadly intent. How dare she question his devotion to Anders? This witch, this creature who would never know what it was like to care for another person the way Fenris did. How dare she waste his time with her promises, threats and riddles?

With a casual flick of her fingers, she had frozen him in place. "Do you think you can harm me? I have killed men for less. I will tell you now that you are walking a path that will lead to your destruction. The magisters play with old magic they cannot hope to understand. The last time this was done, the Blight was released upon the land. What do you think will happen if they make a second attempt?" It was a rhetorical question because Fenris could not answer.

"The Golden City is not what they or the Chantry thinks it is-it never was. The god Dumat lied to them, and now all of Thedas and the Fade are paying the price. This is much larger than your infinitesimal need to rescue your lover. You think I have ulterior motives, and you would be wise to think so. But my motives are my own, and are not the grand schemes of the magisters. I only seek to stop something that would destroy all that I've worked for. If you think to march into Minrathous alone, you will perish—and so will your lover."

There had been lies and truth mixed in her words, things that went unsaid, or only partially spoken of. But what choice did he have?

None if he wished to save Anders and return alive.

"Do you think we can visit Hawke?" Merrill asked. Christopher was wide eyed as they passed through the gates of Kirkwall. He had never left Ferelden, and had only heard stories of the city. Nate wouldn't let Merrill go unless Christopher went with them.

He had even made Fenris stay in the keep long enough to get himself cleaned up and better provisioned than he already was. He wore a new set of armor, and the blood and grime from the Deep Roads had been washed from his skin and hair. Nate had followed Fenris around the keep, filling him in what had happened. A mage that they had trusted had turned out to be a magister—or so they surmised. Anders had been seen walking out of the Vigil with her, and had never returned. The package had been found on their bed the next morning.

"We will have to." Fenris weaved his way through the streets of Kirkwall, headed towards the Viscount's Keep. Hawke would be able to provide them with swift horses and information.

He could hear Merrill murmuring excitedly to Christopher. It would be a long journey to Weisshaupt and Minrathous, but Flemeth had bought Fenris time that he sorely needed. Every moment Anders spent in the company of the magisters the chance that he would be irrevocably harmed went up. Anders was powerful, but the magisters would never respect that his power took the form of healing magic. Why heal when one could use that might for other purposes?

_Two years ago._

"I wish I had made it to Minrathous one of the times I escaped the circle," Anders said. He and Fenris were walking back from Amaranthine. The day was warm, but a cool and refreshing breeze blew through the trees. Anders' newest tie was in his hair. He had saved up for months to be able to afford it. Especially commissioned, the braided leather cord had a silver wolf's head attaching the two ends together. Green glass that looked like expensive gems, were set as eyes that flashed when the sun hit them. Fenris had a matching one on his wrist. This one would not be falling apart anytime soon.

Fenris stopped and grabbed Anders by the arm. "No, you don't. I know what mages in the circle think of Tevinter, but it's not what they say-for you especially."

"Why me especially?"

"You heal," Fenris stated flatly. "They would have eaten you alive and made you a slave. You would have been put to work cleaning up the messes they make of their slaves and each other." He touched Anders' cheek and ran his thumb over the blonde stubble. "You have such a good heart. They would have taken that from you."

Anders sighed. "All right… Ruin my little fantasy where I show up in Minrathous, meet you and we fall wildly in love, and I—" He was cut off as Fenris leaned forward and kissed him. Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and closed his eyes, their mouths moving over each other.

It was some time before they broke apart panting. "I thank you for the thought," Fenris whispered against Anders' lips. "But you could not have stopped what happened to me. I asked for this, and if the younger me is anything like who I am now, there is nothing you could have said to persuade me away from my course of action."

"Oh? I don't know about that." Anders grinned and his eyes became heated. "I'm sure I would've thought of something. I can be very persuasive."

Fenris chuckled and his head dropped back as Anders' teeth found a sensitive spot on his throat. "You can be at that."

_Kirkwall, present day._

Fenris made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. He couldn't allow himself to be mired in memories and regrets. Getting to Anders was what mattered. Before he knew it, they were standing in front of the giant doors of the Viscount's Keep.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Fenris." Hawke made a move to reach out for the elf, but thought better of it and dropped her arm. Fenris had started pacing the sitting room as he had explained what was going on and hadn't stopped since.

"Tell me what you need and I will see it done." Sebastian Vael's eyes followed the elf around the room. He and Lizette had been visiting along with Carver when the guards had burst in announcing that there were Grey Wardens requesting an audience. When Hawke heard which Grey Wardens, she had them sent directly in.

Fenris wasn't telling the whole story, Hawke could feel it. The magisters were going through a lot of trouble to get Fenris back. Stealing Anders was a desperate move.

"I need horses," Fenris answered. "I need information about the current condition of Tevinter, if you have it. Time is of the essence."

"Then you shall have my horse," Sebastian offered. "He's strong and swift. As for information…" He glanced down to his wife.

"Tevinter has gone silent." Lizette smoothed down the skirt of her rich green gown. "No one is sure why. They have stopped their search for," here she gave Fenris a speculative look, "the Key."

That got Fenris to stop his movement. He froze, indecision written on his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "They stopped because they found it."

And then he began the most amazing story.

* * *

By the time he was done Fenris felt drained. He sat alone on a delicate couch, his face buried in his hands. They had needed to know. They had needed to know who and what they were about to help and why. That they offered their help so freely had been a deciding factor in his decision to tell them. It was a risk, especially with Lizette in the room, but if his rescue of Anders went wrong, then they had to be warned.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner, Fenris?" Hawke finally said. She was the first to speak and break the oppressive and shocked silence.

It was Merrill of all people who answered. "He couldn't. First Warden Cousland didn't want word to spread."

That wasn't precisely true, and that Merrill would lie for him surprised Fenris. It shouldn't have, though. Merrill was a sweet woman, who loved her friends and life. If it wasn't for the blood magic, Fenris might have become friends with her. But as it was, he still couldn't get passed it. It colored his every interaction with her. He was never rude to her, but he never got to know her beyond what was necessary.

Now it was necessary.

Flemeth wanted her with him for a reason, and he needed to figure out it—soon.

"The Chantry should have been made aware of this," Cullen said. "Tevinter cannot be allowed to make the same mistake that caused the Blight in the first place."

"And who would tell them, Cullen," Fenris asked quietly. "You?" He glanced at Carver. "Or you? Maybe Lizette would like to. I did not inform you in order to be stymied by Chantry politics. I'm a Grey Warden, this is warden business. It is being handled _by_ the Grey Wardens. If the First Warden did not deign to tell the Chantry, then you should not either." For the first time, Fenris understood why Aedan always cited certain things as warden business. It saved time and argument.

Sometimes.

"That's where you're wrong," Sebastian said. "Starkhaven is near Tevinter, and is one of the places that will be hit first should they decide to invade. Kirkwall use to belong to the Imperium. Don't you think they might want to have that back. It was a point of access for their ships to get to Ferelden. We should have been told, even if Aedan didn't want the Chantry to know."

Fenris hadn't thought of that. Of course, politics weren't his area of expertise-at least, not in the rest of Thedas. He knew the ins and outs of the senate in Minrathous thanks to Danarius, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

"Then consider yourself informed."

"Wait a minute," Hawke suddenly said. "Varric knew about some of this, didn't he? Oh, I'm going to kill him. He's been telling Malcolm this insane story about a ghost elf and the Fade. That sneaky little—"

"He wasn't supposed to even say that much," Christopher said. "None of us were." He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, messing up the strands. He had apologized to Fenris years ago for what he had done and the elf had accepted it and forgiven him, but had not forgotten. He wasn't sure if he ever would. Still, Christopher had been into the Deep Roads with Fenris several times, and they had both saved each other's lives on more than occasion. That tended to strengthen bonds between two people. He treated the young mage the way he treated Merrill. He didn't actively dislike the person, just the things they did. Anders had reminded Fenris that everyone in the wardens deserved a chance, and they no one could be judged solely on the things they had done in the past. It was what they did now that mattered.

Anders was right. He had touched on the very thing that Fenris used to live his life every day, especially since he had become a warden. Besides, the mage had to watch over Merrill and make sure she didn't get into trouble. That alone had to be punishment enough.

"Whether we were told or not, we know now," Sebastian said. "If you need Starkhaven, you have my support. If Tevinter is grabbing for power, then the Free Marches are being threatened."

"Kirkwall as well." Hawke gave Fenris a smile. "Forewarned is forearmed."

Fenris glanced at Cullen and Carver. The latter had been silent and had not spoken since Fenris had told his story. Their eyes met, and Carver crossed his arms. "Well I'm going with you. If you're going to be fighting blood mages you'll need me." He looked at Cullen who sat next to him. "That is, if I have leave to go, ser."

Dropping his head back, Cullen stared at the ceiling and sighed. "Permission granted. I want reports from you. I won't tell anyone of what was said in this room, but if the threat is big enough…" He trailed off. He didn't have to explain that he wouldn't stand by silently if Tevinter made a move that the wardens couldn't handle alone.

"Agreed." A sort of relief swept over Fenris. He hadn't realized just how much it would mean to him to have their support. Not only his friends, but the resources of Kirkwall and Starkhaven as well.

"If they land in Kirkwall, we'll know about it," Hawke said, echoing his thoughts. "I wish you weren't leaving right away." She held up her hand to stop any objections from Fenris. "But I understand. I'll set Aveline and the guards to keep an eye out in Hightown, while Varric can keep his ear to the ground in Lowtown. Isabela in in port and she has contacts in Darktown and the docks. Nothing will get by the three of them."

Even as Hawke spoke, realization dawned on Fenris. He wanted to tell Hawke that it was fruitless, and not to bother searching for a ship with Anders on it—not in Kirkwall. Flemeth wanted Fenris to go to Weisshaupt. She had said that Aedan was as essential as Merrill in retrieving Anders.

If that was the case, then they would not find Anders in Kirkwall.

Still he had aid if he needed it. Anders would laugh when he heard how Fenris rode to his rescue on a prince's horse. Fenris was going to make sure that they would both live so that the elf could hear it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Vigil's Keep, two months ago._

Anders groaned and dug his nails into the wood. With his robes pushed up to his waist and his smalls around his ankles, Anders was bent over a worktable situated in a small room off of the infirmary. Fenris threaded his fingers through Anders' hair and pulled back sharply. It bowed the mage's spine and arched him into the cock that was shuttling in and out of him.

"Maker, I'm going to miss you," Anders gasped. Fenris was scheduled to leave for the Deep Roads later that day. It was a spur of the moment order, and the elf hadn't known until just this morning. He had left Nate and come straight to the infirmary, hauling Anders into the workroom and locking the door behind them.

Fenris grunted and leaned over Anders. he curled his hand over the mage's, entwining their fingers. "Every time you come in here, you'll remember me." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust. He pushed Ander's head down and nipped at the back of his neck. "As you sit here and craft your potions, will you grow hard thinking about the things I did to you in here?"

"Yes…" Anders hissed out. Andraste's tits, he would never be able to work in here again.

When Fenris pulled on the tip of Anders' ear with his teeth, the mage moaned. Fenris paused and rotated his hips, making sure Anders felt every delicious inch of his cock inside him. "Once isn't going to be enough, you know that don't you?" The elf's voice had taken on that deep and sexy timber that Anders loved so much. He shivered in response. "I wonder if they can hear us in the next room." Fenris mused with a chuckle. "Do you think they can hear you, Anders?" He pulled out almost completely and slammed back into the man below him, jerking Anders against the tabl and the legs scraped across the floor with a squeal.

Anders shoved a fist into his mouth, stifling his cries of pleasure. He knew what Fenris wanted from him, and half the fun was the fight that Anders put up to give it to him. Fenris' husky laugh reverberated down his back. He slid his hands up Anders' abdomen and spread his fingers across his chest. "Going to make me work for it, are you?"

A quick roll of his hips was Anders' only response. The elf held still as Anders fucked himself on the cock inside him. Fenris scraped his nails over his nipples. The cock in his ass, Fenris' voice in his ear, and the slight pain had Anders screaming into his fist, the sound muffled and choked.

"Good boy," Fenris said approvingly. "That's what I want to hear." He caressed down Anders' front, his hands alternating between scratching and soothing. He tunneled his fingers through the wiry blonde hair at the base of the mage's shaft.

Anders could feel his pulse thumping against Fenris' fingers. He dropped his head back, and rolled it on his shoulder. He knew his eyes were desperate and pleading when he looked at Fenris, but he didn't care. The elf craved seeing Anders like this as much as Anders wanted to be reduced to nothing more than Fenris' toy. At this point, Anders wouldn't care if Fenris threw open the door and fucked him in front of everyone in the infirmary.

Okay, that wasn't completely true. Anders would care, just later—much later. Just like he was going to be mortified when he had to walk out when Fenris was done with him.

"Please," Anders begged. "I need to come. Please." He tried to seduce Fenris into giving him what he wanted by running his tongue suggestively over his teeth, his eyes heated. "I'll suck you off in the dining hall. I'll crawl under the table and you can feed me with that fat cock of yours."

Fenris' eyes glazed over at the image and his thrusts became erratic. He sucked in a shaky breath through his nose. Anders saw it and pressed the advantage. "I'll swallow it down right there until I choke. I'll…" He stopped and shuddered. He could feel his balls drawing up tight.

"Show me," Fenris demanded. Slowing his thrusts, he placed two fingers against Anders' lips. "Show me what you'd do."

The mage's lips parted and Fenris slipped his fingers inside. Anders licked and sucked, curling his tongue around each digit. He gave a Maker be damned whimper.

"You like that, don't you, Anders? You like being stuffed and used from both ends." Fenris was pushing furiously into him now, and Anders had to brace himself against the table to avoid sliding across it. He couldn't answer, but he nipped at the invading fingers, his teeth sinking into the fleshy pads at the tips.

Fenris was cursing in Arcanum, and Anders grinned to hear it. Fenris had taught him well. Anders loved to drive Fenris wild with lust while they fucked. He pushed the elf the way the elf always pushed him. Fenris got hot with the idea of Anders doing all sorts of depraved things in public, where others could see it. Not that Anders would ever do it, but just the idea of it was a frequent fantasy they played at.

His breathing raspy and uneven, Fenris curled his other hand around Anders' neglected erection. The mage shouted in relief around the fingers in his mouth. The elf stroked him from base to tip, smearing pre-cum along Anders' shaft.

"When you come I want to hear it," Fenris said between clenched teeth. His pelvis was slapping against the mage's ass. "Fuck… Now, Anders… Now!"

Anders let loose a strangled cry as he came, his cock pumping out semen over Fenris' fist. Fenris slammed into him, one, two, three more times and then stilled as he growled through his own climax. Slumping against the table, Anders' legs gave out. He slipped down to the floor, Fenris with him. They lay on floor, the stone cooling their heated and sweat slicked flesh as they tried to catch their breath.

Cum drenched fingers pushed at Anders' lips and he opened them, cleaning off Fenris' hand. "Heal yourself," Fenris whispered into his ear, his voice silk over steel. "I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

_One days ride from Minrathous, present day._

Anders shoved his blanket in his mouth as he came, stifling his cries. He lifted his semen covered hand and held it up to the dim light inside his tent. It wasn't the same. Without Fenris it wasn't the same.

They had landed in Tevinter three days ago, and were now making the journey inland to Minrathous. He'd been on that blighted ship for a month. Tears dripped down Anders' face. Maker, the closer they drew to Minrathous, the less hope Anders had of escape. When he had been young and in the Circle, he had dreamed of escaping to Tevinter. Now he wanted nothing more than to run away.

This was wrong, this was all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He should be back at the Vigil, waiting for Fenris to come home to him. Anders grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his face. It was a trick he had learned to do when he had been in the Circle. The templars did not take kindly to crying mages, so one had to learn how to do it silently. It hurt that he had to do it now, hiding what he felt for fear of retribution. But he couldn't show weakness around the magisters.

The magebane made it difficult to think. If there had been an avenue of escape before now, Anders was not in the right frame of mind to see it. It felt like a nightmare, a horrible dream that he could wake up from, where he could then curl up against Fenris and hold him close, banishing the fear.

But it was all too real.

Weisshaupt was close by, only two weeks away from Minrathous. If Anders could get away before they reached the city, he might have a chance. If only he could just fucking think. He had studied maps of Tevinter, and knew the route he needed to take. Whether he could make it on his own or not, did not matter. He had to escape before Fenris came for him. If he knew his lover, the elf was probably already on his way. He couldn't allow Fenris to step one foot in Tevinter. Anders knew that if he did, Fenris would never leave it again.

He used the edge of his blanket to wipe at his hand. His orgasm had felt empty, and left him only missing Fenris all the more. Sarah had ridden on ahead to Minrathous, and Anders was only left with a contingent of soldiers and three magisters. He didn't know their names-none of them had deigned to tell him—so he had taken it upon himself to name them. The bald one was Asshole, and the fat one, Prick. The good looking younger magister, Anders referred to silently as Impotent, or Imp for short. With his thick head of dark hair, and his chiseled good looks, Anders was certain there had to be a problem in the bedchamber for Imp to have that permanent scowl on his face.

Anders would fight if he had to. If it was death or being used against Fenris, then Anders would gladly chose death. Over the past several years, Fenris had taken it upon himself to teach Anders how to fight. He didn't think that magic was reliable in every situation, and he wanted Anders to be able to defend himself if he had need. Well, he had need now. He just had to wait for his chance and seize it.

* * *

That chance came all too quickly the next morning. Anders stood next to the fire while the others broke camp. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He knew he shouldn't be surprised that it was so cold, but it was a shock all the same. He was lucky it was in the middle of fall and not winter, or else escaping would not be an option. With no real supplies, Anders would have frozen to death before he made it to Weisshaupt. The Tevinter robes didn't help either. When he had been younger, he had taken pleasure in wearing robes like this. But now they made him feel filthy, and he couldn't wait to get them off. Those bastards had taken his clothes. The coat he had worn for years was gone now, probably sent into the sea.

Anders crouched down in front of the fire, warming his hands. He kept his movements casual, but his whole body was tense with anticipation. He flicked his eyes up towards the horses. One of them was ready to go, its saddle bags packed. That's the one Anders would take.

Someone grabbed his arm and he heard Imp's voice. "Get up, we're leaving."

In one swift movement, Anders reached out and grasped a flaming piece of wood from the fire. With a cry he reared up and slammed it into Imp's face. The magister screamed as his hands scrambled for his eyes. Anders didn't give it a second thought, he immediately ran for the horse, the burning chunk of wood still in his hand.

A few sparks landed on the back of his hand, but he gritted his teeth and held onto it. It was all he had, and Maker be damned if he was going to drop it.

He reached the horse and pulled at the peg that tethered it to the ground. It wouldn't come up and he put his whole body into it. "Come on, come on," he mumbled, frantically. His eyes darted to the rest of the camp. The others were streaming towards him, while Prick was with Imp, assessing the damage to his face.

 _Serves him right,_ Anders thought. _Not so handsome now, are you?_ He stumbled back as the peg pulled free.

His triumph was short lived.

The horse he had worked so hard in getting to and freeing, exploded. That was the only way Anders could describe it. Blood, tissue and organs sprayed over him. Anders stood frozen in horror. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder to see Asshole grinning at him.

He had killed the horse rather than see Anders escape. There were a thousand other ways he could have stopped Anders, but he had chosen the most gruesome. Anders couldn't fathom it, his brain unable to process what had just happened.

There was no escaping them.

* * *

Anders had read descriptions of Minrathous, and Fenris had told him stories of what it looked like, but nothing would have ever prepared him for his first sight of the city. It wasn't the high walls that surrounded the city, nor was it the soaring towers of the magisters that could be seen above them that left Anders stunned. It was the Juggernauts, the gigantic golems that ringed the outer walls that stole his breath away.

They were the largest things Anders had ever seen. They could crush a man easily with one foot, and sweep whole armies aside with a massive fist. Maker be praised the day that Aedan Cousland had decided to destroy the Anvil of the Void. When Aedan had told him the story, Anders had privately thought it had been a bit of a shame, even if it were never used again. But now all he could think about was the lives that had been lost in order to make these huge creatures.

His stomach rolled as they rode through the gates of the city. In punishment for trying to escape, they had tied him upright to a horse and left him covered in gore. His stomach was already sensitive thanks to the magebane, and he had spent the ride to Minrathous gagging.

He'd also had to heal Imp.

It was a testament to how far gone Minrathous was that no one looked at him twice as they rode through the city. If he had gone anywhere else in Thedas covered in blood, he would have had people screaming at the sight of him.

Not in Tevinter.

Fenris had been right when he'd said that Minrathous was just a shadow of itself. The remnants of the great Imperium could be seen everywhere, from the old and crumbling statuary of dragons and mages, to the marble houses that were cracked and badly patched. But as they drew closer to one of the towers, the condition of the city was better kept. Mages roamed freely in the streets, their elven slaves following after them. A few of those slaves had leashes, and Anders recalled how Fenris had once said that Denarius had leashed him like a qunari mage.

Now Anders felt sick for a different reason.

No wonder Fenris had hated it whenever Anders had talked so lovingly of going to Minrathous. This was no safe haven for mages. This was no utopia. To his left he saw three magisters watching two slaves fucking in the street. On his right, he saw a mage zap a slave with a lightening spell.

Minrathous was decadent. It wallowed unchecked in its hedonism and power. Maybe a younger Anders wouldn't have seen passed the glittering towers and openly used magic, but he did now. How foolish Anders felt now for all the arguments that he and Fenris had in Kirkwall. He had been so naïve. But when you were in the Circle anywhere else in Thedas, Tevinter was a beacon of hope to lonely and scared mages.

Was this what he and Justice had wanted?

It had been. Maker, help him, but it had been.

Imp pulled his horse up beside Anders and grinned at him. His face was still red in patches, but wouldn't scar thanks to Anders. "You're in luck, infirmus ille. Archon Therion the second wishes to see you personaly."

 _Weak one?_ Anders thought darkly. _Who was the one screaming like a girl because his face was burned?_

Anders rolled his eyes up to the tower they were approaching. And up, and up. It glittered with gold and marble, and banners with the hooded ferryman of the Archons flew in the breeze.

"Lucky day," Anders whispered. "Now I can add an Archon to two kings, a viscount and a prince. What did I ever do to deserve such good fortune?"


	4. Chapter 4

Two days before they would reach Weisshaupt, Fenris lost Anders' hair.

He tore the camp apart looking for it, his heart in his throat. If he couldn't keep track of something so simple as a few strands of golden hair, how was he supposed to rescue Anders? It was foolish that he became so upset over it, but it was the last thing he had of his lover. It was as if once it was gone, Anders had disappeared completely with it.

Carver tried to help him search, but Fenris only snapped and growled at him, and the templar backed off. They had resumed their former friendship as if Fenris had never left for the wardens. It comforted the elf that there was a constant in the chaos that was currently his life. Years ago, Fenris had written a letter to Carver, apologizing for not being able to stop Zevran from freeing Merrill. He had known how Carver had felt about her, but hadn't wanted to betray any confidences. Carver had written back and said he understood that when his sister was involved, there was little one could do to sway her from her path.

If Carver was bothered by seeing Merrill with Christopher, he didn't say anything. Although Fenris had seen his eyes stray in Merrill's direction more than once, his gaze wistful.

Fenris knew from the start that he couldn't keep treating Merrill and Christopher the same way he had at the Vigil. They were part of the hand that fate had dealt him, and whether for good or ill, he needed them to get Anders back.

This sickness he had inside him, this absolute hate for anything to do with blood magic was going to get Anders killed. Fenris had already made a deal with one witch, he would make as many as it would take to get Anders back. He didn't have to like what Merrill did-that wasn't the point. She was important enough for Flemeth to demand that Fenris take her along. If Merrill could in any way aid in saving Anders, then Fenris would hand her the blighted dagger himself so that she could cut her palms.

He would even offer his own blood if she needed it-anything for Anders.

He hadn't seen Anders for two months, and desperation was riding him, deciding his every action and decision. Even a single hour in the magister's hands was too long. At night, his thoughts would race over all the things that Anders could be going through. He wouldn't let himself think that Anders was dead, his mind balked at the idea. Fenris swore that he would spend the rest of his days hunting down each magister that had a hand in hurting Anders and making sure that they suffered.

"Found it!" Merrill cried. Unlike Carver, she hadn't backed down when Fenris had glared at her. She held the dirty hank of hair in her hand, and picked out some leaves that had tangled in it.

Relief washed over Fenris, but when he reached for it, Merrill held it out of the way. "You're going to keep losing it if you insist on having it in your gauntlet," she chided. "Let me make a bracelet out of it for you. That way you can always wear it without worrying."

Fenris stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted Chantry robes and was moaning the Chant. His first inclination was to wonder what game she was trying to play. He ruthlessly shoved the thought to the side. No, he couldn't think like that anymore. Merrill was a warden now, and she willingly came with him across Thedas to save Anders. What was it that Anders was always telling him? He could practically hear his lover's voice. _Actions speak louder than words, love. Besides, Pounce likes her. If she's good enough for Pounce, then she should be good enough for you._

He lowered his hand and tried to swallow passed the pain that had lodged in his throat. Maker, he missed that annoying man. He missed the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he laughed. He missed that charming crooked grin he always gave when he was trying to wheedle something out of Fenris. He missed the way he would grasp Fenris' hand when they sat in the dining hall, uncaring who would see them and what they would think.

Fenris couldn't speak, so he gave Merrill a brisk nod instead. With his hands clenched into fists, he turned and headed for his tent.

He was grateful when no one tried to stop him.

* * *

"Do you think Aedan will show me the sword he used to kill the Archdemon?" Merrill asked as they rode through the gates of Weisshaupt. "Oghren's told me the story so many times. Did he really shoot lightening out of his eyes when he did it?"

"I think Oghren was exaggerating," Christopher said softly.

"That's a shame. Why are stories always better than the reality? You should have heard what they were saying about Hawke when she killed the Arishok. I think Varric might have started most of the rumors, though. "

"Reality is more gruesome and boring," Carver offered. "At least in the stories you don't have to hear about how bodies void themselves when they die."

"Ew. I try not to think about that."

Fenris sighed. At least no one was at each other's' throats. The mood of the group had improved the closer they got to Weisshaupt. Whether it was because they were closer to Anders, or because Weisshaupt promised a warm, clean bed, Fenris didn't know.

They left their horses at the stable and headed into the fortress. Weisshaupt had changed in the three years since Fenris had last been here. He could see that the crumbling walls had been repaired, and that the wardens seemed more disciplined than they had been under Frey—or what had passed for Frey. Fenris had no good memories of Weisshaupt, and he would have been happy never coming back. But Weisshaupt meant Aedan, and Aedan meant keeping his part of the bargain with Flemeth.

He touched his wrist, pressing his gauntlet into the bracelet that Merrill had fashioned out of Anders' hair tie and his hair. Fenris was… touched that Merrill had done it. She had woven the strands through the braided coil of leather and used the silver wolf's head clasp to seal the whole thing shut. One day, the hair would unravel and fall away, but Merrill had ensured it would be a long time in coming.

Fenris had the feeling that if they weren't wearing the tabard of the Grey Wardens, they would never have gotten as far into the fortress as they did. As it was, they were stopped in the main hall by five wardens in full plate and helm.

One of them spoke to him, and Fenris could only catch some of what he said. He growled in frustration. He should have thought about that. What little of the Anderfels language he knew, wasn't—embarrassingly enough, thank you, Anders—something he could say in polite conversation. So he said the only thing he could and hoped it was enough.

"Aedan Cousland. Vigil's Keep."

* * *

They had quickly been ushered into Aedan's study after that. Not only had the main hall changed,-the throne like chair was gone now-but the study had as well. When Fenris had been here last, the room had been dusty and the books little used. Now it was clean, and a hurried glance told Fenris that the books were in order on the shelves.

But while some things had changed, others still stayed the same. Aedan's desk was just as massive as the one he'd had in the Vigil, and papers were piled haphazardly on top of it. The grey in Aedan's hair had spread, steel colored strands were scattered throughout his black hair. He looked older and tired, and Fenris was a bit shocked to see it. Being First Warden had aged Aedan beyond his years.

Aedan made to stand up from his chair. "Fenris, what are you—"

Fenris strode over to the desk and slapped his hands down on top of it, the claws of his gantlets scratching into the wood. "Anders has been taken."

"What?" he looked over Fenris' shoulder. "Why is Christopher with you? Is that the Viscount's brother? Who is—"

"I have no time for this, Aedan," Fenris snarled. "You need to answer some questions. I have to—" There was a light touch on the back of his neck and Fenris whirled around.

Zevran tilted his head to the side and smiled at him. "Hello, my friend. Why don't you and your companions sit down?" Fenris glared at him, and the assassin's grin only grew wider. "Unless you would rather stand. While I would enjoy the wonderful view of your backside, I don't think Aedan would like it if I looked. It is up to you." When Fenris didn't reply right away, Zevran's eyes lost their flirtatious light. "You seem upset, my friend. I hate to think that you would take your anger out on my Aedan, no? We both know that won't end well for anyone involved. Now, why don't you and your friends take a seat, and I will have some lovely Antivan wine brought up."

The two men stared each other down, and Fenris carefully removed his hands from Aedan's desk. He let out some of the tension in his shoulder. Zevran was right, the Void take him. He had spent weeks thinking that all he had to do was ask Aedan one question and then he could immediately leave to get Anders. But it wasn't going to be that simple.

Zevran nodded at him approvingly as Fenris moved to sit down in one of the many chairs scattered around the room. The others did the same, and a heavy silence fell on them.

"Now," Zevran said, "tell us who has taken the lovely Anders, so I know who needs killing."

* * *

True to form, Fenris found himself on his feet and walking the length of the room. The fingers on his left hand tapped a staccato on his hip, while his right waved wildly in the air, punctuating his every word. "So here we are. I never thought the magisters would go so far as to take Anders. It was a bold move to snatch him out of the keep. They've had him for a month, a fucking month. Fasta vass, I will kill them all for this. I will show them how wrong they were to give me the powers they did."

Merrill, Christopher and Carver had remained largely silent while Fenris told his story. Aedan looked over to them. "And what is your part in all of this?"

"Knight-Commander Cullen was going to inform of Chantry about Fenris," Carver answered truthfully. "I managed to hold him off by volunteering to come. I'm the official, unofficial templar presence."

"I'm here because Merrill is," Christopher explained. "Did… Did Warden-Commander Howe explain that I…"

"He did." Aedan crossed his arms. "If he thinks that you and Merrill are a good influence on each other and worth keeping around, then I trust his judgment." Aedan hadn't seen Christopher since the day he had ordered him thrown into the dungeon next to the Architect. Merrill, he knew not at all.

"I'm here because Asha'bellanar made Fenris bring me." She had her hands folded in her lap, and she looked tiny in the large chair she sat in. "I'm not sure why, but I would have come anyway. Anders is my friend, one of the first few I'd ever had."

That hurt. Fenris and Merrill were alike in that respect. Both of them had come to Kirkwall with nothing, only to find friends in places that they would have least expected. What he knew of Merrill's life among the dalish sounded lonely. Fenris knew of that loneliness, he had felt it each day during his life as a slave.

"Asha'bellanar?" Aedan asked.

"I… I have not told you of her yet." Fenris said. Now that he was here, the feeling of prying where he was not meant to returned. But it was for Anders, and Fenris would not renege on his deal. "You would know her as Flemeth. She helped Merrill, Christopher and I get to Kirkwall, cutting at least two weeks of the time it would have taken to get here."

The color drained out of Aedan's face. "Nothing good can come from making deals with her."

Fenris paused in front of Aedan's desk. "If it gets me Anders back, then I will make all the deals I need to do it. She asked me to bring Merrill, and I did. She told me Anders would die. What would you have me do, Aedan? Ignore her and wait days for a ship that will take me as far as Kirkwall, or Antiva? The deal has been struck and I am here to finish it."

"What are you saying, Fenris?" Aedan's face became guarded. "What have you done?"

"I should be the one asking you that. How did you survive killing the Archdemon, Aedan? That is the question she bade me to ask you. She told me that you could no longer run from what you have done."

Aedan rose to his feet and braced his hands on the desk. "Flemeth is using you. You have no idea what kind of game she's playing."

"And you do?" Fenris scoffed. "What did you do that the Witch of the Wilds would be so interested in me hearing the answer?" He peeled back his lips from his teeth in a snarl. "I have come a long way, and I am so close to Anders that every fiber of my being is telling me to go to him. Flemeth told me that I needed your answer to ensure that Anders would survive. By the Maker, the Old Gods and Merrill's Creators, if you do not tell me I will rip the answer from you."

"That's enough." Zevran's voice was whisper soft. "Make one move towards him and I will slip this dagger into that vulnerable place between your armor." Fenris felt a small, sharp pain near his armpit. "I do not wish to harm you, but I will if you follow through on your threats."

"Need your whore to fight your battles for you?" Fenris asked Aedan. He knew it was cruel, but he was so angry. Why couldn't Aedan just answer the question and be done with it? What was he hiding?

"Whore?" Zevran said, his tone offended. "That implies I charge for it. I'm more of a one man slut. Sometimes I think I should be paying Aedan."

Aedan buried his face in his hands. "Fuck, Zev."

"Yes, exactly," Zevran chuckled. His voice turned somber. "Trying to sneak up on me, Ser Hawke? You templars are always so loud. I will not harm our mutual friend. Fenris just needs to calm himself down."

"We all need to calm down," Christopher said. "Maybe we should get some sleep and revisit this in the morning."

The morning? Was Christopher mad? Fenris needed to know now. He trusted Aedan, he had for years. They had been through so much together, and if Fenris had ever had a brother, he would like to think he would be like Aedan. But now the man was keeping something from him, something that might save Anders' life. He couldn't countenance it.

He stared at Aedan, and his eyes bored into the man. "Please." Fenris' voice broke. "If you know anything that can save his life, help me. What lengths would you go to in order to save Zevran? Who would you make deals with? Do not judge me."

Aedan glanced over Fenris' shoulder, and the elf knew that he was looking at Zevran. His breath left him in a rush and he looked back to Fenris. "What I did was because I didn't want… I didn't want to leave him. You understand that, don't you, Fenris? The Blight… There was so much death and chaos. Blood mages, ancient curses, warring armies, betrayal, and then to find out that I would have to sacrifice the life of my best friend in order to survive it all. It was either that or die myself." He slammed his fist down on his desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. "I was so tired. I wanted, just once, to have something for myself. But I wasn't even supposed to have that. I couldn't let Alistair die. I couldn't let him do it. Ferelden needed him. I needed him. But there was Zev and… and I am not that noble. So when she came to me…" He swallowed audibly. "When she came to me and told me that I could live. I took the chance.

"Morrigan. She was there with Alistair and I after Ostragar. She is one of Flemeth's daughters. She was taught well by her mother and she'd found a way for both Alistair and I to live. She wanted… She wanted a child from me or Alistair, she didn't care which. She said she could perform a ritual that would save us both. I couldn't ask that of Alistair. He uh…" Aedan cleared his throat delicately. "He had never been with a woman before—anyone really. He was a romantic. He believed in love and waiting for the right person. I felt it was wrong to ask him to do it."

"So you did," Fenris whispered.

"So I did." Aedan took a slow breath. "It was mortifying. Zevran had to be there with me and…" He winced at the memory.

"Why a child?" Carver asked.

He didn't understand, but Fenris knew the answer. Maker, help him, but he knew, and he answered for Aedan. "When an Archdemon dies its very essence goes into the nearest darkspawn. That's why a warden has to be the one to kill it. The taint… It makes it so it will go into a warden instead, killing them both. What she did… You helped her create a monster."

"No!" Aedan shouted. "Years later I tracked her down. I found her. She had made me promise not to follow her, but it was my child. I needed to know that I had made the right choice. I found her in the Dragonbone Wastes. She… She's gone. Flemeth lied to you, Fenris. She only wants the child and Morrigan. She can't be allowed to find either of them."

"Gone?" Christopher said. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know. Maker, help me." Aedan ran his fingers through his hair. "She went through an Elvhenan artifact called an Eluvian."

The world stopped and Fenris jerked his eyes towards Merrill in astonishment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I've got a bit of a cold right now.
> 
> Poll! In thanks to everyone, I'm going to leave it up to the readers who Nate ends up with, complete with smutty smut smut.
> 
> So, should it be a male or female? New OC or not? anyone that is not currently in a relationship with someone and is in Ferelden is fair game.
> 
> People in Ferelden are:
> 
> Velanna
> 
> Denerou
> 
> Oghren (to be fair)
> 
> Alistair (He's going to be coming into play very soon)
> 
> Or anyone else that is in the games that I haven't brought up yet.
> 
> Or it could be a new OC.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

It was Imp that led Anders personally into the tower of the Archon. The inside of the tower continued the trend of gold and marble that could be seen on the outside. Anders had seen nothing like it in Thedas, and he doubted he ever would. The ancient magisters had carved the bay in Kirkwall with magic, a feat that Anders still couldn't comprehend. The amount of power that it must have taken had to have been staggering. The tower was no different. It looked as if it was built from one massive solid block of marble, the stone shaped with magic and inlayed with gold.

Anders could see himself reflected back in the floor and walls. He looked hideous, the blood and gore creating a gruesome mask where his eyes were the only recognizable features. He was going to meet the blighted Archon. Maker, help him.

The past three years had taught Anders a lot about diplomacy. He was still working with Wynne on Circle reform, and was in constant contact with several First Enchanters, Knight-Commanders, and various ruling powers. It was easier for Anders to write what he needed to say on parchment and send a letter, than to do it in person. He didn't have the ability to roam the way Wynne did. Fenris helped Anders more than anyone. His lover would read over what Anders had written and tell him if he was coming on too strong or not. It wasn't that Fenris didn't approve of what Anders was doing; it was more that Fenris knew his lover well, and had heard all of the arguments for mage freedom forwards and backwards. Fenris was a balance and perspective that Anders needed. He was someone that could speak for the people that knew a fear of mages and could give advice.

Anders wondered often if Fenris realized he was helping the mages of Thedas more than he thought he was. If he didn't, then Anders wasn't going to be the one to point it out to him.

So while he could focus his thoughts into a well-crafted missive, keeping his mouth shut when he was in danger was still beyond him.

And he really, _really_ needed to keep his mouth shut.

They had only made it three levels up the winding tower when they were stopped by a magister in rich black robes. He had obviously been waiting for them, and blocked the path up the twisting flight of stairs.

"Gaius…" Imp said as his lips curled into a sneer. "Get out of my way, Therion is expecting me. He won't be pleased to learn that you delayed me."

Gaius raised a dark eyebrow at Imp and looked down his patrician nose at the shorter man. "Plinius, I think you're triumph will be short lived if you bring him looking like," he raked his dark eyes up and down Anders, "that. You never did learn to clean up after yourself. And it's Archon Therion to you. You risk offence if you drag your prize in front of him drenched in blood and smelling of death." He folded his arms in the sleeves of his robes. "I will take him and have him cleaned up."

Plinius laughed. "So that you can be the one to bring him to the Archon? I think not."

Gaius took a step back and nodded towards the stairs. "Then by all means, bring him as he is. I will come with you so that I can see in person the Archon's anger directed towards you. You and Lucretia were not to harm him."

Anders' eyes darted back and forth between the two men as they argued. Maker, was this what Fenris had to live with? They were players in a deep game, and Anders didn't know the rules. No wonder that Fenris was paranoid and he hated when people didn't speak outright. There were undertones and layers in this that Anders could sense but not see.

How could anyone live like this?

"He was not harmed. I merely demonstrated on a horse that fleeing would not be advisable."

The other magister's nose wrinkled in disgust. "So you left him like that? One day even the templars will be forced to deal with you, Pliny. It won't matter how much influence your father has, or his seat in the senate."

"Just like your money and seat has brought your house nothing?" Plinius sneered. "You've said your piece, Gaius. I will remember your words well."

Gaius inclined his head and moved away. "If you wish…"

Anders and Plinius reached the next level of the tower when Plinius turned towards an elven slave that was doing her upmost best to keep herself out of sight. "You there." She flinched when she was spoken to. "Take this," he waved a hand at Anders, "to the baths and have him cleaned up. You and you," he pointed to two guards that stood along the walls, "go with her."

The tower was filled with them. Anders had seen at least six on every floor. Two would flank the top of the stairs, while two more stood guard at the bottom of the next flight. At least two guards could be seen moving in and out of hallways and doors on patrol. All of them wore armor emblazoned with the hooded ferryman of the Archon.

As he was led away, Anders couldn't help but think that Plinius had played right into Gaius' hands.

* * *

The slave refused to give her name, no matter how hard Anders tried to cajole it out of her. She dug her fingers into his scalp and worked soap into the stiffened strands. He sat in a marble basin that was inset into the floor. Steam wafted around him, rising from the hot water and obscuring his vision. He wasn't sure how it was heated, and he didn't think he wanted want to know. Nothing was what it seemed in Minrathous, and knowing his luck, he would find out there was a rage demon right under him, burning away merrily.

Now that was a silly thought. How would that conversation have gone? Yes, Ser Rage Demon. I have summoned you here because I want to form a pact with you. What's that? No, I don't want power or riches, just heat my bath for all eternity.

Anders' musings could only hold his fear at bay for so long before it returned in full force. What was he going to do? The Archon's tower was heavily guarded, and Anders was about to meet one of the most power mages in Thedas. Granted, being Archon did not have to mean power magic wise, but it did denote a certain cunning in order to get the senate to elect you as Archon.

He was in a strange land, in a stranger city, with a political clime he couldn't even begin to hope to understand. He had a blighted slave of all things washing his hair, like he was some sort of child and incapable of doing it himself. She was washing blood off of him with no more expression than if he had doused himself in wine.

The door opened behind him and the slave finally showed some reaction. Her fingers froze on his scalp and then lifted completely. Anders turned and saw with some trepidation that Gaius stood staring down at him.

"We don't have much time, so I will make this brief. If you breathe a word of what I am about to tell you to another soul, I will make sure your stay in Minrathous is not a pleasant one."

Anders glanced at the slave who had moved off to the side, her eyes downcast.

"She will not say anything, nor will the guards," Gaius said, correctly interpreting Anders' look. "Plinius is so easily led. He forgets who supplied the Archon with the slaves and guards he surrounds himself with." He shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes. "You have the misfortune of visiting Minrathous in unstable times. I am here to make sure that whatever the Archon asks of you, you will not give."

"Visiting?" Anders scoffed. "I don't call being kidnapped visiting. If you don't want me here, then why not just let me go."

"It would be much easier to kill you," Gaius bluntly said. "Which still might happen. Therion will offer you many things, and you will refuse each one."

Anders slowly shook his head. "What could he possibly offer me other than my freedom?"

"What do you think, child of Raimund and lover of the Key? Therion means to see you on the throne of the Anderfels. He wants to use your relationship to Danarius' folly in order to bring the slave to heel. Those of us in the senate that know of his plans do not wish to see either of those things come to pass."

Anders hadn't been expecting that. He knew he had been brought to Minrathous in order to lure Fenris here, but he had not thought... Being Medwin's brother hadn't changed Anders' day to day life. It was usually the furthest thing on his mind.

Medwin had taken his throne with the backing of the wardens. It had been swift and decisive. There had been a few grumblings from the barons, but Medwin had gathered them all in Weisshaupt and told them that he would be king, and that the barons would just have to deal with it. Having the wardens standing behind him while he did it had helped quell any objections. It was the kind of thing that Anders could never have done. Medwin knew what he needed to do in order to talk to his fellow Anders and get them to comply. Anders on the other hand, would have mucked the whole thing up. Best decision he'd ever made talking Medwin into becoming king.

"Why are you telling me this?" Anders asked. "What's in it for you?" He wasn't stupid. Gaius wanted something more than just Anders compliance. Not that he had to ask. Anders would never betray his brother. Not to mention the foothold into the rest of Thedas that would give the Imperium.

"Money and stability," Gaius responded baldly. "Tevinter cannot survive a war on the scale that Therion will throw us into. We are a dying way of life, and instead of putting our resources into what makes us powerful, he proposes we start a war with the Anderfels. Our cities are built on the backs of slaves and from magisters more powerful than any currently living. Minrathous might have the Juggernauts, but that will not be enough to prevent the rest of Tevinter from burning when a horde of angry Anders comes sweeping across the border. Too many in the senate agree with his plans." His lips curled in a sneer. "They think that you and Danarius' pet will return us to the old days. I am much more practical. My house has made its fortune on the slave trade, and I'm not the only one. War would mean armies of slaves, which would mean that they could not be fully trusted to not defect to the other side. Our system would collapse."

"So," Anders replied slowly. "You're telling me that you don't want me to agree to let the Archon make me king, so you can keep on making money off of elven lives?" He threw back his head and laughed. "How did you find out about me anyway? It's a warden secret now. I haven't stepped foot in the Anderfels in years."

The more Anders spoke, the more Gaius' eyes narrowed in angry slits. "It was easy enough. We've had someone in Weisshaupt for a very long time. He was there when you arrived, and Minrathous knew within a few weeks. He also was able to gain possession of a very interesting letter from a young Ferelden warden. Did you really think that Minrathous would let Weisshaupt sit so close to the Tevinter border without having someone on the inside?"

"Not much good that did you in the long run, though. You screwed up when you tried to take Starkhaven and Weisshaupt. It was very badly done." Some of the blood tinged soap dripped down his face and he ducked his head under water.

But when he tried to come back up, he couldn't.

Something was pressing him down into the water, and Anders made the mistake of opening his mouth in surprise. Water poured passed his lips and he began to choke, flailing wildly. His hands slapped the air above his head to find there was nothing there. His lungs started to burn from lack of air, his brain panicking.

Abruptly the force was gone and he broke the surface. He leaned heavily on the side of the bath, coughing up water and gagging. Sandaled feet blocked his line of sight and he glanced up.

"Don't underestimate me, Adelric. You will serve me better alive than dead, but I have no compunctions about killing you. The magisters you have met before were nothing more than the lackeys of Plinius and Lucretia. They are of the same ilk, and do not understand the meaning of the word restraint. I do. I can either be your best friend here in Minrathous, or your worst enemy—choose wisely. Plinius and Lucretia have the ear of the Archon. Lucretia through sex and Plinius through his ambition."

"Why not… kill me…" Anders gasped.

"If I killed you too soon, then they will find another way to get what they want. This plan to capture Thedas through the royal lines is an idiotic one. Either the Archon must be made to see it, or the senate. If it is the senate, then they will bring Therion down, and the end result will be the same. As long as you refuse, then it will give me time to either convince Therion he is in the wrong, or show the senate he is unstable."

Anders chuckled weakly. Help the slaver with his political machinations? Why the fuck not? Anders must have done something horrible in a past life, like eating orphans or kicking Andraste's puppy. Gaius wasn't the only one who needed time. Anders needed it as well. If he could find a way to get out of the tower, he might have a chance to lose himself in the city and escape to Weisshaupt.

He was good at escaping towers. How hard could this one be?

"Fine, but I won't let them hurt Fenris. What they want him to do…"

"What they want him to do is blasphemy," Gaius finished. "Going into the Golden City was the beginning of the end for us. If the elf steps foot in Minrathous, he will be killed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your encouragement!

"Where did you get this?" Merrill said in awe.

Aedan had brought them all into the bowels of the fortress, down windings stairs and through a series of heavily guarded doors. The room they were in was bare, except for the two flickering torches on the walls, and the large mirror that sat in the middle of the room.

"Kirkwall." Aedan stood in front of the mirror with his arms folded. He stared at the cracked surface. "I believe it was yours once."

"No," Carver stated flatly. "No good can come of this. I thought it was locked in the Gallows. How did you get a hold of it?"

Aedan shrugged. "It was simple enough. When I did some digging into Merrill's background, Viscount Hawke told me of the Eluvian. I in turn informed the Knight-Commander I needed it."

Fenris shook his head. He should have known. Aedan would never let a known blood mage into the wardens unless he was absolutely sure that she posed no danger. For all of his talk of allowing the outposts to police themselves, he still couldn't let go of the Vigil.

"You checked up on me?" Merrill gave Aedan a wounded look. "Why?"

As he rubbed at his neck, Aedan managed to look contrite. "Look, I didn't know a thing about you. Nate assured me that you were behaving, but I had to be certain. What would you have done in my place?"

 _Not allowed her to be made a warden_ , Fenris thought. The elven woman was a study in contradiction. She was sweet and loyal to her friends, but she was also capable of some of the stupidest and most dangerous decisions that Fenris had ever had the displeasure to witness, decisions that could get herself and others killed. She hadn't touched blood magic since she had become a warden, and had proved herself invaluable. She was powerful, even without the blood magic. It confounded Fenris. He didn't understand her, and didn't think he ever would.

Still, she had willingly come with Fenris to rescue Anders. If she could help in anyway, then Fenris would never question the things she had done again.

"You still shouldn't be playing with that… thing," Carver insisted. "Merrill's Keeper was very explicit on how dangerous it is. I can't believe Cullen allowed you to have it."

"I would be willing to bet he was glad to be rid of it." Fenris tapped a claw tipped finger on his bottom lip in thought. "I don't understand, how is this supposed to help me rescue Anders?"

"It's not," Carver flatly said. "If Flemeth wants this Morrigan, and she went through one of these…"

"Then I was tricked," Fenris said softly. "Why am I not surprised?" And he truly wasn't. He had been expecting something like this from Flemeth. The witch did not do favors out of the kindness of her heart. She had only wanted Merrill to get together with Aedan and his unwise need to find his child. Meanwhile, Minrathous was only weeks away. _Anders_ was only weeks away. "I have done as the witch asked and now we need to move on. We leave in the morning."

"No!" Merrill placed her hand on Fenris' arm. She didn't move away or flinch when he glanced down at her hand. "Fenris, this can help us. You've said so many times that even entering Minrathous will be dangerous. The Elvhen used the Eluvians to communicate and travel over long distances. When Tevinter conquered our people, they stole the Eluvians along with everything else. They could never get them to work properly, but think on how many of these must still be in Minrathous."

"They aren't _my_ people, Merrill," Fenris snapped. "And if the ancient magisters could not get them to work correctly, why do you think we can?"

"Hey!" Christopher said. "Don't yell at her."

Merrill ignored Christopher and locked eyes with Fenris. In the month they had traveled together, Fenris had seen a side of Merrill he hadn't known was there. He used to think she was easily cowed and misled, but he knew differently now. She had a spine of steel, one forged in the doubts and misgivings of her own clan. Merrill could stand up for herself when need be.

"Because Asha—Flemeth thinks I can. Why else would she send me here? Why else would she make you promise to ask Aedan how he survived the Archdemon? _Our_ people believe that she only touches those that can change the face of the world. She is neither evil nor good, she just is. If she believed enough to intervene with you personally, then we had better pay attention." Her eyes searched Fenris', and when she was sure that he was listening, she removed her hand.

"This Eluvian was first found just before the last Blight. Two hunters discovered it in an ancient ruin. One of them disappeared that day, the other… The other died of Blight sickness shortly after. Before he died, Mahariel said that Tamlen had seen something in the mirror—a city. If I can just fix it, I know we can use it to travel. The magisters don't know the old ways. They only know what little was forcibly taught to them—most of that has been lost."

Fenris ran a finger down his throat, tracing one of his brands. "Not all of it. Don't underestimate the magisters. Even if you fix it, we can't be sure it will take us to Anders."

"I know you have never thought well of me, Fenris." When he opened his mouth to reply, Merrill held up a hand. "No. I know you haven't. You never made a secret of it. I appreciate that you haven't said anything deliberately cruel to me in years, but I know when you're thinking it. You get these wrinkles in between your eyebrows like your head hurts." She pointed at him. "Like that. Exactly like that."

Fenris fought to smooth out his features and Merrill gave him a small smile. "We're friends, whether you like it or not. And as your friend I am telling you, that if Flemeth says that the whole of Thedas is in danger, then we'd best listen to her."

Shooting his gaze over to Aedan, Fenris gave him a questioning look. Aedan had had more dealings with the witch than any of them.

"Flemeth lies, she manipulates, and she has little regard for the lives of others." Aedan said. "She's one of the most dangerous creatures I have ever come across, and I would kill her a second time if given the chance. That being said, she values her own life more than anything else. She has a vested interest in seeing Anders saved."

"Why do you say that?" Fenris asked.

"There are a thousand ways she could have gotten Merrill to Weisshaupt, and instead, she chose to do it through you. I'm starting to think it's not Morrigan she wants."

"She could have just asked me," Merrill said. "I would have gone."

"Especially when you were living in Kirkwall," Carver added. "There were days Marian and I couldn't pry you away from that mirror."

Fenris glanced from one person to another. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists. "Three days. Do not ask me to give you more time. I cannot. If it is not working by then, we will leave and find another way into the city."

For the first time since they had entered the room Zevran spoke up. "I see the Maker has listened to my prayers. I have been bored here, yes? It's nothing but fortress, wardens and snow." He flashed a grin at Fenris' disgruntled look. "Don't look at me so. Thinking of inventive ways for Aedan to fuck me can only entertain me for so long. There is no intrigue here, no assassins lurking in the corners-other than myself. It has been very dull. You should feel sorry for me, my friend."

* * *

Anders stood front of the massive doors that led to the Archon's Seat. He nervously smoothed down the deep blue robes that he had been given. He had never worn anything so rich in his life. The fabric felt soft and decadent against his skin. When the light hit the material just so, he could see the fine silver threads that had been woven into it. The cost of these robes could feed all of Darktown for a year.

He was waiting with three guards in a large room with enormous marble columns arranged in precise lines. Carved into each one were depictions of the Old Gods, their eyes inlaid with jewels that flashed in the light from the magical sconces affixed to each wall.

 _Thanks a lot, Dumat,_ Anders thoughts as he studied the scene of the god Dumat giving Archon Thalsian the secrets of blood magic. _I really appreciate all that you have done for the world._

After Gaius had left him, the slave had resumed bathing Anders as if the magister had never appeared. His hair had been scrubbed free from the blood and grim of the road, but it still fell in uneven lengths in the back. He rubbed a hand on his chin and felt the several weeks' worth of growth. Maker, if it wasn't for the robes, he would look like one of those insane maleficar that the Chantry seemed to think roamed the world, waiting in hedges for decent Maker fearing people. Beards were not a requirement in a mage, any more than it was in a dwarf, but some people—mages included—couldn't let go of that image.

Why would Anders grow a beard and deprive the world of his handsome face?

The doors opened with a crack, and Anders' heart raced. He had to remember that down below all of the decadence and riches, Tevinter was ruled by the Circle. Anders understood Circle politics, even more so these past few years. If he kept that in mind, then he just might survive this.

* * *

The Archon's Seat was a literal and figurative name. It denoted the top most floor in the tower where the Archon took audiences. It was also the large throne that sat in a raised dais on one end of the room. The chair depicted all seven of the Old Gods, their bodies intertwining to form the large chair. Like in the columns outside of the room, they had jewels for eyes, larger than any Anders had ever seen. It was meant to intimidate, and show anyone that entered the might of the Imperium.

It worked.

Anders shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes to hide the way they trembled. _You're in the Circle and a templar just caught you with a pretty girl. Her robes are around her waist and her legs are up in the air,_ he told himself. _Don't make a snide remark or they will punish the girl. Keep calm and don't let them see your fear._

He had a guard behind him and two more on either side, ushering him forward. Ahead of him, Plinius stood at the bottom of the dais with Sarah. She had changed, and was unrecognizable from the quiet, shy girl he had known at the Vigil. Her robes were a dark, blood red, and her hair was curled elaborately on top of her head. At her throat and wrists, diamonds' glittered. Anders was willing to bet that each piece of jewelry she wore was enchanted in some fashion.

It hurt to see her like that. It reminded Anders how much of a fool he had been.

Archon Therion the Second avidly watched Anders approach. With his black robes against the equally dark throne, he seemed a part of it. He sat stroking his long grey beard, and Anders noticed perversely that he was balding, his ruthlessly short hair starting higher than it should.

It made him seem more human, and Maker knew that Anders needed that.

The guards stopped in the middle of the room, and Anders followed suit. They dropped to their knees with a clang of armor and bowed their heads. Anders stood, his teeth clenched. He was a prisoner, and a Grey Warden. He wasn't going to start out by bending knee to his jailor. They already saw him as weak. Anders didn't mean to have them think him pliable as well.

"You will bow before the Archon!" Plinius shouted. Anders noticed that he had changed his clothes as well. And that they were a match for the Archons.

 _Bootlicker_ , Anders thought with derision.

He made no move to do as Plinius demanded. Instead, he addressed the Archon directly. "Archon, I am Anders, a Warden of the Grey. Why have I been taken? If you needed warden aid, you should have applied to Weisshaupt and the First Warden directly." Good, that sounded confident. His accent was flawless as well. Years of studying Tevinter texts, and his time with Fenris had made Anders fluent in Arcanum.

"I was under the impression that Lucretia explained to you why you are here." Therion's voice was deep and resonated throughout the room. Anders could see why he had been elected Archon. He could easily imagine him making grand speeches in front of the senate.

And terrifying them.

"If you mean Sarah, then yes. But I find myself astonished that you would go through all the trouble for one ex-slave."

Therion laughed, and the sound sent a shiver of fear down Anders. "Very good, Adelric. But we both know that he is more than a mere slave. Danarius' pet has proven hard to capture. It was decided that it would be easier to have him come to us."

"Fenris won't come." Maker, he hoped Fenris didn't. Anders knew it was a futile wish, but it was one he made all the same.

The Archon leaned forward, and Anders was reminded of how the Arishok use to sit, peering down on Hawke as if she was a strange bug that he wasn't sure if he wanted to squash or study. "He will. Lucretia has assured me of his devotion to you. It borders on obsessive, does it not? He will come. Especially when you are paraded in front of Minrathous and the rest of the world as the rightful King of the Anderfels. All of Thedas will know who and where you are. I am given to understand he does not share you well."

Anders' eyes darted to Lucretia. All those time she had poured his heart out to her when he had thought she had been doing the same, she'd been probing for information on his relationship with Fenris. "The Anderfels already has a king."

"A much younger brother." Therion sat back in his throne. "It's a crime that he has taken what is yours because you're a mage. Tevinter on the other hand, sees your claim as the rightful one. We are a friend to mages everywhere. How could we turn a fellow mage away when he comes asking for help?"

Anders couldn't keep the horror off his face. "You can't force me to do this."

"It's already been done. Your presence here is proof enough. When all of Minrathous sees you in the games to be held in your honor, the Anderfels will know it too."

* * *

Anders stared down the food that had been brought to him. More magebane… He had been shown into a lavish room in the Archon's tower. The room was covered in more of that fucking marble. Anders was sick of it, the smooth stone endless. He picked up his plate and threw it. It smashed against the wall, smearing meat and fruit, and sending shards flying.

A sob escaped his lips. He couldn't allow them to do it. Gaius was right it would cause a war of untold devastation. And Medwin… He would never betray him—never. He had never acknowledged their relationship. He hadn't wanted to cause his brother problems. Anders had to content himself with their infrequent letters.

And it seemed that the Archon didn't even need Anders' assent.

Anders dropped to the floor amidst the broken pieces of his plate. A large shard stabbed into his hand, cutting his palm. Calmness swept over him, an emptiness that felt like a great big hole where his heart was. He picked up the shard and held it up to the light. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Not since Fenris had gone missing and been presumed dead many years before.

Would they still be able to perpetuate their lies if Anders wasn't there? He didn't think so. Blood sluggishly dripped down his arm. There would be no reason for Fenris to return to Minrathous if Anders was dead. The Archon would lose any chance he had of gaining the Anderfels. Anders knew the precise place he needed to cut that would bleed him out in minutes. All he needed to do was—

The door opened behind him and slammed shut. "It is you. When I heard I wasn't sure."

Anders jerked his head towards the voice, and his eyes widened. "Feynriel?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one night!

_Kirkwall, eight years ago._

"You're a fool, Hawke." Fenris had his hands braced on the large table in Varric's room. He loomed over Marian, his eyes snapping with green fire. "You just let a mage with the potential for a great and dangerous power, go to Tevinter."

Anders had to give Marian credit; she didn't back down or quail in her chair. Instead, she gave the elf a glare of her own. "I wasn't about to make him Tranquil, Fenris. I would never do that to another mage, no matter what they've done. It's evil."

"You think all mages are like you, and you're wrong. The magisters will corrupt him if the demons don't get to him first. This wouldn't have happened if you'd brought me with you."

"And this is exactly why I didn't bring you," Marian shot back. "He was just a scared kid."

"Was…" Fenris' nose wrinkled in disgust and anger. "You say he can walk in dreams and shape them to his will. How much more dangerous does someone have to be in order for you to see that they need to be put down?" He turned his eyes on Anders when he spoke.

"No… No, no no…" Anders stood up and pointed at Fenris. "You aren't going to turn this into another one of your rants about 'the abomination'. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm different?"

Varric sat across from Marian and they both flicked their eyes back and forth between the two men. Fenris slapped a palm on the table. "You are no different or special. There is no such thing as a mage that can control a demon. The magisters—"

"Oh, here we go." Anders crossed his arms and cocked and eyebrow at the elf. "What's it going to be this time? Why can't you see that you want all mages to continue to suffer under the same tyranny of slavery that you did? Why would you wish that on anyone?"

Anders was so tired of this. He was tired of trying to make Fenris see past his hate. He was tired of fighting with him. He was tired of how much he enjoyed seeing the way the elf's eyes flashed when he was angry. Maker, something was seriously wrong with Anders to get such a dangerous thrill out of that.

Fenris pushed away from the table. "I only hope that you do not regret letting the boy live, Hawke."

* * *

_The Archon's Tower, present day._

Anders managed the smallest of healing spells on his hand. The cut didn't disappear as it should. Instead it scabbed over, becoming several days old in an instant. He sat at an ornate table—not marble, thank the Maker-placed to one side of his room, Feynriel across from him. It had been years since he'd last seen Feynriel. His face had lost the youthfulness it once had, and even his eyes were harder than what Anders remembered.

"Gaius, huh?" Anders frowned down at his palm. At least it was something. Magebane never lasted long, and his last dose must be wearing off. He glanced at the mess he had made on the wall. That was going to cost him.

"He's a good master. He's taught me so much over the years." Feynriel leaned forward. "I couldn't believe it when he told me you were here."

"Oh, yes," Anders drawled. "Wonderful man, if you can ignore the whole slavery bit." Andraste's tits, if Feynriel hadn't come in when he had… Even if he didn't know it, Anders owed him his life. Falling into despair wasn't like him. When he'd been in the tower he had thought once or twice about taking his own life. But when one got down to it, what mage hadn't? He'd fought his captivity then, and he would fight it now.

"You don't know how things are in Tevinter."

Maker, was Anders really going to be hearing this again? He'd thought he was done with the whole 'Tevinter is an evil place of doom and gloom' bit. He got it, Minrathous was the Void. Now, could he please leave?

"I think I understand well enough," he replied dryly. "I guess you should be lucky you weren't made a slave."

"I _was_ made a slave. The lucky part was when my master found out what I could do. He freed me and I've been with him ever since. With my help, he's become a force to be reckoned with in Minrathous."

Anders didn't like the sound of that. "Your help? Please tell me you're not—"

The smile that Feynriel gave him was a little bit too predatory for comfort. "Gaius supplies most of Minrathous with slaves and guards. They all report to Gaius—whether they know it or not."

"What have you done?" Anders sat back in his chair, stunned.

"You act like I'm doing something awful," Feynriel chided. "But I'm not. Not here. You say you understand what Minrathous is like, but you still are surprised." He held up his hand, palm up. "On one side, you have the senators. Centuries of inbreeding and arranged marriages have produced some of the most powerful mages you will ever see. They rule through fear, and have no scruples about using demons and blood magic." He held up his other hand. "On the other side, you have wealthy houses that may or may not be a part of the senate. They can have strong magic in their blood line, but rarely if ever use blood magic or traffic in demons. They have risen to power in other ways, usually with gold. They might not have the power in the senate that the others have, but they are wealthy enough to survive and even thrive." He moved his hands up and down, like he was balancing a scale. "When one faction grows too powerful it usually raises the ire of the other, and balance must be restored. Minrathous is constantly in flux, and only the smart survive."

Lowering his hands, Feynriel gave Anders a small smile. "I've found I'm pretty damn smart. If going into the dreams of slaves can give my master information to keep his house safe, then I'll do it—gladly."

"Why are you here, Feynriel?" Anders asked with trepidation. His mind had been his own since he and Justice had parted—since he had last been in Weisshaupt. Anders wasn't going to give up that freedom. If Feynriel so much as made a move towards him…

Feynriel laughed. "Oh, don't look so scared. I just wanted to see you. You and Hawke helped me when I needed it most-several times." The smile fell off his face. "I wanted to warn you. Plinius and Lucretia are dangerous. They are the ones that hatched this scheme to kidnap you. They both have the Archon's ear—Lucretia especially."

Now it was Anders' turn to laugh, but the sound lacked any mirth. "I think I could have figured that one out on my own. You can go back to Gaius and tell him that his warnings came too late. The Archon is going to try and make me king, whether I want it or not." This was a nightmare. None of this could be real. Maybe he had tripped over Pounce and had hit his head. That was it. He was unconscious on the floor with Pounce sitting on his back.

"He's heard already."

Anders stood up and threw out his arms. "Then what does he expect me to do? I won't go along with the Archon's plans, but it seems he doesn't want my consent. They are going to have blighted games in my honor in five days." He tapped his chest. " _Me!_ I won't let them do it, but I won't let them kill me either, and Gaius won't help me escape." Anders knew he was shouting, but he didn't care. What more could they do to him at this rate. "I want to go home. I miss my lover, and I want my blighted cat!" When he was done, Anders stood panting, his eyes locked with Feynriel's.

For a long time, neither of them said a word. Feynriel finally sighed. He propped his elbows on the table and settled his chin in his folded hands. "I can't go against my master. I owe him almost as much as I owe you and Hawke. But… There is going against him and helping you to escape, and then there is helping you contact those that can aid you." His eyebrows drew down sharply. "If you breathe a word to anyone of what we're doing, I'll deny it and make sure that you never have a peaceful sleep again."

Anders felt a wild surge of hope. If he could contact Aedan, maybe they could figure out a way to free Anders. Logically, he knew that Aedan was the right choice. Weisshaupt was not far, and Anders wasn't sure where Fenris was. For all he knew, his lover could still be in the Deep Roads, unaware of what had happened. But his heart cried out for Fenris.

"What do I need to do?" he asked. Anything, he would do whatever Feynriel asked of him.

"You just need to go to sleep."

* * *

Fenris growled as he rolled his hips, thrusting his cock through his slick fist. His other arm was thrown over his head, and his fingers dug deep into the pillow. With his eyes squeezed closed, Fenris spun rapid fast fantasies.

Anders on his knees while Fenris' cock shuttled in and out between his lips.

The mage tied up. The ropes tight enough to dig into his skin, but not enough to hurt him. He was on his knees with his face pressed into the mattress. Fenris didn't touch him, just looked at the way the rope wrapped in between his ass cheeks and pried his muscular backside apart.

Fenris sucked in shaky breath after shaky breath through his nose. He dug his heels into the bed, and slammed his cock through the tight ring of his fingers.

Anders on his hands and knees on one of the tables in the dining hall at the Vigil. His mouth hung slack in pleasure, while breathy moans escaped his lips. The whole keep watching, their avid eyes on the two men. Fenris gripping Anders tightly by the hips as he pounds into him.

"They can see you, Anders." Fenris, growling into Anders ear. "They know what a whore you are. Which one will be next? Which one should have that talented mouth?"

Anders' voice, laced with need. "All of them. I want all of them. You're the only one that can have my ass."

The tightness of Anders' ass, his pleas for the cocks of strangers and friends alike. Anders opening his mouth as a faceless warden approached him, his erection brushing against Anders' lips. The warden's look of surprise and pleasure at the way Anders' skilled tongue bathed the tip of his cock.

The knowledge that Anders was his. His to do with as he pleased. That—

Fenris clenched his teeth to prevent a moan from escaping. His cock pulsed in his hand, and cum jetted out, splattering over his stomach and chest. Blood roared in his ears as he stroked his erection, milking his orgasm. His muscles went abruptly lax, and he stared up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath.

They had been at Weisshaupt for a full day, and he was beginning to think that Merrill just might be able to fix the Eluvian. Between the vast knowledge that Aedan and Merrill had about it, and with Christopher's help, they had managed to repair the last of the cracks. It was eerie looking into a mirror and seeing nothing reflected back.

Carver had elected to stay with the mirror while the others worked on it. He had stood guard by the door, his greatsword in his hands. If anything went wrong, Carver had been ready.

Fenris and Zevran were out of their element, so they closeted themselves in Aedan's study and poured over maps of Minrathous. They had several places marked out that seemed most likely choices for where they were keeping Anders. Neither of them had been to Minrathous in years, but the city was ancient and unchanging.

Some of the maps in Weisshaupt were old, and most of them pertained to the Deep Roads. As Fenris examined them, an idea had come to him. If the Eluvian wasn't going to help like they thought it was, then they would take the Deep Roads to Minrathous. It wouldn't get them into the city, but an entrance was close by—a half a day's journey. This way, they wouldn't have to fear being seen as they crossed the border.

Fenris slipped from the bed and padded over to the washbasin. He cleaned himself up, and tried to ignore how hollow his climax had felt. Even with the fantasies he had dreamed up, the act had felt rudimentary and empty.

On the way back to the bed, he blew out the candle. He crawled back under the covers, and was grateful to have a bed to sleep in instead of the ground. The mattress could have been falling apart and stuffed with old clothes like the one he'd had in Kirkwall, and it still would have felt wonderful.

In moments, he was asleep.

* * *

Fenris sat in a field. The breeze gently blew the tall, yellow wildflowers, and he watched them sway. With the clouds overhead, the sun was neither too hot, nor too cold. Falling back, he stretched his arms over his head, letting the sun warm his skin. He had taken his tunic off, and the grass underneath him was soft and cool.

The grass rustled and Fenris turned his head. Anders was rushing towards him, and he had a panicked look on his face. Wait, that wasn't right. Anders looked… strange. His hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail, but he looked younger than he should, and he even had an earring in his ear.

Anders skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground. He reached out to Fenris with desperation. "Love, I don't have much time. You need to listen to me."

Grabbing his hand, Fenris pulled Anders on top of him. "Why talk when we can do much more interesting things?" He ran his finger over the hoop in Anders' earlobe. "When did you get this?"

Anders braced his arms on either side of Fenris head. "What?" The elf tugged on the earring and Anders winced. "Maker... Seriously?" He ran his hand over his face and hair. "Feynriel warned me I might look different." His eyes roamed over Fenris and his expression saddened. "Oh, love…"

Fenris' skin was no longer marked by any brands. Smooth olive skin was bared for Anders' gaze. The mage gently touched Fenris' hair, his fingers shifting the near black strands. "I'd always wondered…"

"Why are you so sad?" Fenris didn't understand. This was _their_ field. Nothing could touch them here. There was never any sorrow in the field—only joy. They met here often, away from everything else in the world. Sometimes they just sat and talked for hours. But more often than not they made love, their bodies coming together under the sun.

"You're dreaming, love. I…" Anders ran his fingers over Fenris' face. "I know you hate it when I say this, but you're beautiful. You always have been."

"Dreaming?" Fenris gently pushed at Anders and sat up when the mage moved back. "Why are you saying such strange things? This isn't right. Something's wrong." This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Fenris stood up and turned, his eyes darting around the field. It was as it always was—endless grass and wildflowers. But when his eyes turned upward he saw it.

The Black City sat in the distance, the clouds dissipating as they came near, like there was a great hole in the sky where it sat.

It all came rushing back to him. Anders, Flemeth, the journey to Weisshaupt. He spun around to face Anders and held out his unmarked arms. "I shouldn't be here. Justice will come for me. I—"

"It's all right." Anders got to his feet and touched Fenris' cheek. "We're dreaming. Remember when Hawke and I saved a half elven boy, and he went to Tevinter? He's helping me speak to you." He rubbed his thumb over Fenris' chin. "You don't have your brands here, love. Justice won't come."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Fenris whispered. "How do I know that you aren't a demon?"

Anders leaned down and pressed his forehead against Fenris'. "You don't. I need you to trust me. I can't remain here long." His eyes filled with tears and it broke Fenris' heart to see it. "I miss you so much. I miss the Vigil. I miss Pounce and how I wake up in the morning to a cat on my chest and you by my side. I even miss Oghren and his ability to belch Song of the Paragons."

A tear slipped down Fenris' cheek and he wrapped his arms around Anders, holding him tightly. "Maker, thank you. You're alive… Thank you…" In the back of his mind, Fenris had always feared the worst. He would never let himself say it, let alone think it, but he had been so afraid that Anders was dead, that he had done something incredibly reckless in order to get free.

The relief he felt was overwhelming, stealing his voice. He closed his eyes and breathed in Anders' scent. It didn't matter that they were dreaming, the smell of elfroot and Anders filled his nostrils. His warmth, the way Anders' beating heart hammered in his chest so hard that Fenris could feel it, felt real enough.

Anders pulled back, his eyes searching Fenris'. "Where are you? When you're awake, I mean."

"Weisshaupt. I came as soon as I could. I…" Fenris took a deep breath and explained everything. He told Anders about the note, Flemeth and the deal he'd made, the journey to Kirkwall… Everything.

"We're coming for you, Anders. I'll make them pay for thinking they could take you from me."

"No! Love… You don't know what's been happening. They want you here. The Archon…" And now it was Anders' turn to explain things. The more he spoke, the angrier that Fenris got, until his lips were pulled back in a snarl, and his hands were clenched into fists on Anders' back.

"Lucretia… I remember her. She has more than the ear of the Archon. She has his cock in a vice as well. Danarius used to talk about the rumors that said she was Therion's daughter, as well as his lover." Fenris' mind raced. "How long until the games?"

"Five days. Don't come, love. Please. I'll find a way out and get back to you. If they catch you—"

"They won't catch me. And if they do, I'll make them wish they never tried." He cupped Anders' cheeks in his hands. "Listen to me. Don't you dare tell me not to try and save you again. You're my everything. Without you my life would go back to the nothingness it was before. I won't let go of that, not until you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way."

"You know I can't do that," Anders whispered harshly. "I've loved you for so long." He sucked in a quick breath when Fenris' lips crashed into his own. Their mouths moved over each other slow and languid, as if they had never been apart, as if they weren't dreaming and they had all the time in the world.

When they broke apart, Fenris' eyes turned fierce. "Can Feynriel bring you back to me again? I need you to look for a mirror that does not reflect, and then tell me where it is and if it's guarded. Come to me in two nights."

"I can't believe you are letting Merrill do this." Anders laughed softly. Fenris closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him.

"I'm beginning to think that I was wrong in assuming I could do without any magic in my life. Magic has brought you to me now, and magic might help free you. If… If magic can do these things… If it can…" Fenris choked on the words. He had once told Hawke that magic had tainted everything in his life. At the time it had. It had stolen his memories and his very self away from him. But magic had also brought him Anders, and it might just be what helped rescue him.

He opened his eyes and met Anders' gentle gaze. "I know, love… I know…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I had a virus on my computer and lost four days worth of stuff, including the half of this chapter I had written. It's all fixed now though.

On the third night Anders did not show up.

Fenris paced the room, while the others stood in front of the mirror. "Something's happened to him, I know it. Are you sure I was supposed to enter the Fade with that sleep spell?" His teeth gnawed on a gauntlet covered knuckle. He still couldn't believe that he had let Merrill put him to sleep with magic. But it had been the only way to make sure he slept when he had needed to.

"Yes," Christopher confirmed. "You're not a dwarf, so you entered the Fade while you dreamed. It wasn't the spell, Anders just wasn't there." He ran his index finger over the edge of the mirror and sent an experimental spark of magic through it.

Nothing… He and Merrill had been at it for hours. They just couldn't seem to figure out how to activate it. The glass remained dead and flat despite their best efforts. In desperation, they were attempting everything they could think of, even going so far as to have Carver try some of his templar talents on it.

Still nothing.

"This was a waste of time." Fenris' voice came out in a rush. "We should have left days ago. Who knows what they're doing to him? I take that back, I know exactly what they're doing to him. Flemeth was just playing with me. She had to know we couldn't get it to work on our own. Unless she counted on that, and was only looking to have Merrill fix it. If that's the case, then she doesn't care what happens to Anders. Of course, maybe she does and we're missing something—something obvious. But that could just be the trap. What if she's working for the magisters? What if—"

Aedan shouted to get the elf's attention before his thoughts spiraled any further out of control. "Fenris! Take a breath. Merrill is certain it's fixed, we just have to figure out how to activate it."

"Maybe Feynriel couldn't help Anders again," Merrill helpfully pointed out. She held out her palm towards the mirror and murmured an incantation. Power flared in the room and pulled on Fenris' brands. The magic in the room was steadily rising as Christopher and Merrill used spell after spell on the Eluvian. Each time they did it, Fenris could feel the tug on the lyrium just under his skin. He clenched his hands and resumed his circuit of the room.

"Or maybe he's dead," Fenris stated flatly.

The room went silent and Merrill abruptly stopped the spell. She turned horrified eyes on Fenris. "How could you say that?"

"Easily," Fenris retorted. "Do you think they need him breathing in order to control him? They only need his corpse. You know what was done to Hawke's mother." He flung out his hand and pointed at Zevran. "You've been to Minrathous, am I lying?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "This is a trick question, yes? If I give you the answer you want, then I am only going to feed your anger. If I say no, you will accuse me of lying. Besides, I only saw the barest surface of what Minrathous is like. I have not the experience you do. Do I think them capable? Yes. Do I think they will resort to that? No. You are letting your emotions get in the way of your judgment."

"I don't think he is…" Carver stepped from the wall he had been leaning against. "Using the Eluvian is a mistake. I'll keep saying it until one of you listens to reason. It's dangerous. We should be heading to Minrathous instead of playing with it." He glanced at Fenris. "I can't believe you're going along with this-of all people."

"Oh look, the templar doesn't want us to use magic. What a surprise…" Christopher mumbled under his breath.

Unfortunately, the room was small and Carver heard him anyway. "Excuse me? That has nothing to do with it."

As Christopher and Carver argued, Fenris grew angrier. They kept looking to him to make decisions that there were no easy answers for. The reassurance and relief he'd had upon awakening from his shared dream with Anders had been short lived. He'd opened his eyes with tears on his pillow, and the knowledge that Anders was in even more danger than Fenris had initially thought. He'd hurried out of his bed and pulled on a pair of leggings, before rushing to Aedan's room to bang on his door.

They hadn't believed him at first.

But Merrill had remembered Feynriel and the things he could do and what he'd had the potential for. It had been Merrill that had convinced the others that it had been more than a mere dream, more than Fenris' fervent wish to see Anders again.

Fenris and Aedan had argued about telling Medwin. Fenris hadn't wanted to involve him. While Aedan had felt he should be informed that Tevinter was going to make a move on the Anderfels. Fenris had pointed out that the wardens were supposed to be neutral, and involving Medwin would only complicate things. Besides, they could not wait the weeks it would take for a missive to be sent and a reply back. They had to move now before it got even more out of hand. Aedan had countered that since it would take so long, they might be back with Anders by then, so it would be a moot point. If something went wrong, at least the king would have been forewarned. In the end, Aedan had sent his letter.

The pressure to bring Anders back alive and quickly was mounting, and all Carver and Christopher wanted to do was argue. It set Fenris' teeth on edge. He now understood how Hawke use to feel when she would lecture him and Anders. It was so trivial. Who cared about what the templars or the mages did? It meant nothing in the face of what they were trying to accomplish.

It meant nothing when it came to Anders' safety.

"Stop!" His top lip curled in derision. "This arguing is fruitless. The mirror won't activate, so we must leave for Minrathous in the morning."

"We can do this," Christopher said. "Just give us more time."

"We have no more time!" Fenris' brands flashed in his agitation, bathing the room in its blue glow. When the light hit the Eluvian its surface rippled like water. Fenris was so startled, that his power immediately shut down. Merrill and Christopher scrambled away from the Eluvian, moving behind him.

"Do it again," Merrill whispered. Then spoke louder. "Do it again."

Behind him he could hear Carver pull his weapon free. In his periphery, he saw Zevran do the same. Fenris took a few steps towards the Eluvian and stopped in front of it. He held out his hand and took a deep breath.

"Fenris, you don't know what you're doing," Carver called.

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm getting Anders back, nothing else matters." He turned back to the mirror and opened himself up to his brands. He took a half step into the Fade, pushing against the barrier that was more felt than seen. His whole body was enveloped in blue light and he became ethereal, neither in the Fade nor in the waking world. His hand was steady with resolve as he touched a fingertip to the surface of the mirror. It wavered, a new image reflecting back in each wave. Some of the images showed only darkness, while others displayed rooms, ruins, trees, water and rock. Whatever the Eluvians were facing was shown to him, but none of them were clear.

"Fen'Harel," Merrill said reverently. "The Dread Wolf who could walk between two worlds."

* * *

The Archon's Tower was beautiful. It didn't lack for comfort or the finer things in life. Anything one could ever want was available there—if the Archon so wished it. Gold, slaves, power, these were things that one did not turn down lightly when the Archon offered it.

Anders was allowed to roam the tower, provided that he did not attempt to slip his guards. He knew what Therion was doing. He wanted to show Anders all that could be his if only he would assent to the Archon's plans. He didn't need Anders' assent, but having it would make things all the easier.

Unfortunately for Therion, Anders had already been offered everything he could ever want, and had turned it down.

One floor was dedicated to books, a massive library that Anders could see himself getting lost in for months. The thought of all that knowledge that the Chantry never would have allowed him in the Circle, made his mouth water. There were so many books that there weren't enough shelves for them all. Books were piled in stacks on the floor, creating a precarious maze. What would he find if he looked? Could he find out what had been done to Fenris? Was this were Danarius had gained the knowledge to do it? It had taken a force of will in order for Anders to turn and walk away from that.

Anders had seen no one besides his guards and slaves for days. He'd had no word from either Feynriel or Gaius. If his food hadn't abruptly stopped being laced with magebane, he would have thought they had given him up as a lost cause. He knew it had to be either one, or both of them, behind his now untainted meals. Gaius supplied all of the slaves in the Archon's Tower, and he didn't think it was the Archon that had ordered the magebane to cease.

Between roaming the tower and watching for a way out, Anders had dedicated himself to searching through the library for any information about Eluvians. He had to be careful not to seem to be looking for anything in particular. The library was so massive and out of order, that he knew it might be a futile effort, but he did it all the same.

He had started a circuit around the tower, one meant to lull his guards and give him a chance to find a way to escape. He would start on the floor his room was located, leaving it to wander towards the library. Whenever he came upon a painting, tapestry or carving, he would engage his guards in one sided conversations about them. All the while his eyes were watching the comings and goings of the slaves.

Two of his escapes from the Circle in Ferelden had been through the servants' entrance. The first time he had merely snatched some clothing from one of the servants and waltzed right on out and onto a boat. The second time—really, you would have thought they would have learned by then—he didn't even bother with that. Instead he hid in a crate full of enchantments and was loaded onto a boat. The key was to find out where the entrance was, and then watch the movements of the servants and templars. If you had patience, there would invariably be a time when no one was watching as closely as they should be.

When it came to escaping, Anders was endlessly patient.

When he was younger, it had been a game to him. He'd had nothing left to lose but his freedom. Although he had always feared being made Tranquil, it was a price he had been willing to pay if it meant a chance to escape the templars. But now the stakes were higher, and his fear for Fenris made him sharper and more cautious. Where before, he would have laughed at the tricks he was pulling, now things weren't so funny. He was a grown man who had a lot riding on his ability to get himself free and stay alive in the process. He was no longer a young man that had just wanted to experience all that life had to offer him before he died. He knew what life had in store for him now, and he meant to get back to it.

Calling upon his younger, more carefree self, Anders was full of jokes and wit for the guards. It was another trick he had learned in the tower. If the templars did not see you as a threat—even if they knew better—then they would be less vigilant. He made comments about the frescoes depicting various times throughout Tevinter history. He joked that if he had known that magisters could have a bevy of beautiful slaves around them at all times, he would have come to Minrathous sooner. He talked about his cats. He spoke of how frightened he was of the templars because he was such a weak, weak mage. He didn't stop talking until his head hit the pillow each night, only to rise and do it all over again.

The day after he was supposed to have met Fenris in the Fade, Anders saw progress. He noticed that his guards meandered behind him a bit further than usual, and one of them even smiled, just the slightest quirk of his lips at a joke Anders made.

Who thought that this babbling fool needed to be watched so closely?

Not the guards. When he wandered into the library and towards the spot he had left off in his search, the guards did not follow. Instead they stayed by the massive entry way. With his back to them, Anders allowed a self-satisfied smirk cross his lips. Towers… They were all the same.

* * *

"No! Go back," Merrill said excitedly.

"You're going too fast," Christopher bemoaned. "I can't see what you're looking at."

"I think the one with the room looked good," Carver added. "We should stop at that one."

"There are several with rooms, you're going to have to be specific," Aedan said

Fenris' hand paused and he sent a glare over his shoulder. "Would all of you be silent? I'm doing the best I can." He had been at it for hours now. Fenris could move through the various scenes, but he was having a hard time stopping the images and getting them to solidify.

It didn't help that he was being given constant commentary.

He touched his hand to the glass, his fingers sinking into it to the tips. The images flashed rapid fire as he fed power into the Eluvian. He couldn't get them to stop, let alone long enough to see what it was they were looking at. Fenris ground his teeth in frustration. " _Venhedis!_ " he shouted. "Stop!"

An image froze.

He blinked. That was it? He just had to tell the thing to stop and it would? An image of a forest with branches gently swaying in the wind solidified. It was like looking through a window. Fenris shook his head. More like a doorway. Wasn't that exactly what this was? As he watched, a deer ran through the scene, ducking around slender tree trunks.

"You did it!" He could hear Merrill clapping behind him. "Now we just need to find one in Minrathous."

"No," Fenris said absently. "We need to make sure that this is safe and that we can use it to get back." He pushed his arm through the Eluvian. He could feel warm sunshine on his hand.

"Wait, Fenris. You don't know where that leads to," Carver cautioned.

"We need to be sure. If I don't come back, find Anders." Without hesitation he stepped through—

-and out into a forest.

He turned around to see that the Eluvian was once more dull and lifeless. It stood on a raised stone dais that was covered with moss and leaves. Ivy trailed up the sides, obscuring the Eluvian's frame. His brands flared and he touched the dead glass, bring it to life. Images flashed as before, but this time, Fenris concentrated on where he wanted it to stop. _Weisshaupt_ , he thought. The images sputtered, and Fenris tried again as he began to panic. "The Anderfels," he said out loud. "Aedan. Show me Aedan! Stop!"

The Eluvian ceased its flickering. Aedan was staring back at him, a relieved expression on his face. Fenris blew out a shaky breath and stepped back through.

"I think," he said as he walked into the room, the Eluvian going blank behind him. "I know how to make it work."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ridiculously hot in my office so my writing has slowed down. I hope everyone is keeping cool.

Fenris tried again. "Show me Anders." The Eluvian wavered and images skittered across its surface. He slammed a fist on the mirror's frame. "Why is this not working? I hate magic. What good is it if it doesn't do what it's supposed to? Unreliable piece of shit. No wonder the ancient elves were conquered and enslaved. If this is an example of their great civilization, then the magisters needn't have destroyed their capital."

"You're not concentrating," Christopher sighed. "You need to relax and picture clearly in your mind what you're asking it. Magic can only do what the wielder wants it to do, no more and no less. If your thoughts are fragmented, then the magic will be imprecise."

"Oh?" Fenris asked snidely. "And how am I to accomplish that? You act like it's so simple."

"I think of all the wonderful things in the world I have seen and the things I have yet to see," Merrill said. "It gives me focus."

"The templars teach that one just has to call upon the Maker and ask for his aid." Carver shifted and his plate mail clanked. "The Vigil is meant to strengthen that resolve and your purpose in this world. In reality, once you've knelt for a night in full armor saying the Chant, you learn quickly how to block everything else out. It's either that, or give up and leave."

"I think about how I need to get back to my Aedan and his wonderfully large—"

"Ah!" Carver shouted. "I'm not listening." He hummed a tune under his breath. "Why do you always have to do that?"

Fenris could practically hear the smirk in Zevran's voice. "If you stopped turning that lovely shade of red, I might stop."

"This isn't helping," Fenris called out. The six of them were packed and ready to leave. All they needed was a destination and that was all down to Fenris. Aedan had left his second in charge of Weisshaupt until they returned, a woman named Helena. She had been sent to Weisshaupt from Ansburg and had proved invaluable. The exclusively male population of the wardens of the Anderfels had been turned on their ears. There had been resistance at first, but Helena had slowly won their respect.

It helped that for such a small woman, she could wield a mean two handed axe.

Zevran had used dye to color Fenris' hair and disguise one of his most obvious features. It was now an inky black, almost unnaturally so. If one looked too closely, one could tell that it was not his natural color. It had been startling to see himself. He'd had brief flashes of his life before his markings, and knew that his hair had once been dark. But to look in a mirror and see it, was a different thing altogether.

There wasn't much they could do about his markings. Merrill had suggested drawing over them with more dye to make them appear as valasslin, but it wouldn't adhere to his skin properly, and the lyrium showed through in patches. They had settled on a long sleeve tunic with a high collar to go under his armor instead. None of them wore anything that would link them to the Grey Wardens—or the templars.

"What do you do when you use your markings?" Aedan asked.

Fenris blinked. How was he supposed to explain that? His markings were so attached to his emotions that he rarely had to think in order to use them. They just were, the same as a scowl or a smile. But one could do either of those things with a thought as well. The feeling he got when he stepped further into the Fade than he was supposed to, that extra thought of having to push against it, that's what he should be concentrating on.

He touched the Eluvian's surface and the images once more flashed rapid fire. "Minrathous…" he said softly. The images condensed into four instead of the hundreds that had been showing. "The Archon's Tower." He knew he didn't have to speak out loud, but it helped to give him the focus he needed.

Nothing happened.

"I don't think there is one in there," Christopher said. "But there are definitely four in Minrathous."

"Can you get it to stop, one at a time?" Aedan called out. "If we're careful, we can scout out where they lead into the city."

Fenris' eyebrows drew down sharply. That was easier said than done. One of the images showed a room, and Fenris concentrated on that one. "Stop," he whispered.

The image froze, and Christopher let out an excited whoop. "Yes! You did it!"

The others drew up behind Fenris and peered into the Eluvian. The room was dark, lit only with the glow from the Eluvian. Crates were stacked haphazardly, and there was an air of neglect.

"I don't like this," Fenris said. "Who knows where this is. It could be a storeroom in some magister's mansion."

"Only one way to find out," Zevran said. Before anyone could stop him he was slipping pass them and into the room. He turned around and waved with grin on his face. "What the Crows wouldn't pay you for this, my friend. No one in Thedas would have a mirror for fear they would find a blade to their throat." He held a finger to his lips, asking for silence as he walked to the door. Running graceful fingers over the latch, he gently pulled the door open. He glanced back and winked at them before slipping out the door.

Aedan cursed under his breath. "I hate it when he does that."

"Which is one of the reasons he does it. He's a lot like Anders in that regard." Fenris' body vibrated with the need to run through the Eluvian after Zevran. This was Minrathous, it had to be. He was close now, hours away from freeing Anders.

"Why would Anders or Zevran want to do something to annoy you? I don't understand," Merrill said.

"I'll uh… explain it to you later." Christopher cleared his throat. "Much later…"

* * *

When Zevran returned with a triumphant grin on his face, Fenris felt some of the tension ease out of him. "Two slaves and they are now sleeping. This is a store, no? And it has closed for the night." The others pushed through the Eluvian, with Fenris the last to go. Without it activated, the room went dark. There was a tap on the stone floor, and Christopher's staff lit up at the knobby tip.

Zevran led them silently through the storeroom and out into the main shop. Shelves filled with ancient looking curiosities lined the walls. Fenris was willing to bet they were all forgeries, and the owner did not know what he had in the Eluvian. If he did, he wouldn't have left only two slaves to guard the place.

Zevran stopped and knelt down at a door. He pulled a lock pick from one of the braids in his hair and went to work. Merrill took the time to wander around the shop, her fingers hovering over various objects. "This is pretty…"

Fenris glanced at what she was looking at. "It's a replica of the Altar of Dumat, the first Archdemon. The tongues of slaves were cut to and burned in sacrifice."

"Ew." Merrill's nose wrinkled. "That's disgusting."

"God of Silence," Aedan said. "You have to love the ancient magisters, they really knew how to scare the shit out of people."

"Nothing has changed…" Fenris heard the lock click and his fingers twitched. He had sworn to himself that he would never return to Tevinter, let alone Minrathous. But here he was, about to step back in the heart of the Imperium.

* * *

On the fourth day, Anders found the entrance the slaves used to get in and out of the Archon's Tower,, and through the various floors. It was cleverly hidden by a seamless door. If Anders hadn't been watching the comings and goings of the slaves, he never would have seen it. Once he knew what to look for, he wandered up and down the tower looking for others. He found two more, one of which was on the same floor his room was located.

The other was in the library.

He just couldn't figure out how the slaves were opening them. There was a trick to it, one that Anders spent his whole afternoon watching for. He had situated himself in the center of the library, sitting at a large table. Books were scattered in front of him, some of them picked at random, while others he had chosen purposefully. He had a good view of the hidden door, and was waiting for a slave to come along.

The guards had pulled back and were loitering at the entrance. Every so often, Anders would get up and move towards the door, his fingers running down the spines of books, as if he was looking for something there. He needed them to get use to his movements.

Since the library was filled to the bim with towering stacks of books, there were times when the guards could not see Anders at all. One such stack was near the doorway.

Anders glanced down at the large tome he had opened. It had the only reference he had found so far about Eluvians. It detailed how the magisters had only been able to get the Eluvians to work with great quantities of lyrium, and how few of the elvhen they had captured would tell them how they worked. It had been assumed that they hadn't wanted the Imperium to use the Eluvians to send armies through. Anders shuddered at the thoughts. If the magisters had been able to use them like that, they would have been unstoppable.

He heard the grind of stone on stone and his eyes quickly flicked towards the door. It opened a crack, and Anders took his opportunity. He stood up and walked towards it, keeping his movements as casual as possible. When the hidden door slid open wide enough, he reached inside and let loose with a sleeping spell. It wasn't very strong, but it was enough to send the slave inside tumbling to the floor. Every night before he went to sleep, Anders tested his magic to see how much of it had returned to him. It wasn't enough to do anything too offensively, but he could still cast a simple sleep spell.

_Thank you for teaching me that one, Velanna._

When he slipped through the partially opened door, Anders' eyes darted around the frame, searching for a way to shut it once more. _How do they do it?_ he thought franticly. _I'm in Tevinter… There must be some sort of spell, something that slaves with no magic can do._ He crouched down next to the sleeping slave and patted his clothing. The thin hallway was lit like the rest of the tower, with magical sconces that burned with eternal fire. His eyes lit upon a necklace at the slave's throat. He unclasped it and held it in his fist. It looked innocuous, but Anders could feel the small amount of magic in it. It was a plain gold chain with a small token dangling from the center. Anders turned it towards the light. The hooded ferryman of the Archon was engraved on it. With a small smile, Anders glanced at the partially opened door and touched the cool stone.

 _Close_ , he thought.

Once he heard the grinding of stone, he didn't wait anymore. He scrambled to his feet and immediately began running down the hallway and towards narrow stairs.

He went down several flights before he encountered his first slave. But the woman only saw his robes and she immediately averted her eyes and flattened herself against the wall. Maker, he could never imagine Fenris doing something like that. The Fenris he knew would have ripped out your eyes before he averted his own.

Anders didn't know how long he had been weaving through the corridors and stairs—he didn't even know where he was going. All he knew was that he was going down. Down out of the tower. His guards must have noticed that he was missing by now. His heart hammered in his chest. Maker help him if they caught up to him.

Finally, he came to the bottom of the stairs. There was a single door in front of him and he hesitated. By his count, he should be at the bottom of the tower. He glanced back the way he came. There was nothing left for it now. In for a copper, in for a sovereign. He opened the door.

Guards ringed the room with Plinius standing in the middle. "There you are. Trying to leave, are we? Very naughty."

At his signal, one of the guards strode forward and slammed a gauntleted fist into his face. Pain exploded as his nose cracked and broke. Blood poured down Anders' face, dripping into his mouth. He swiftly turned to the guard that had hit him and snatched his sword from its sheath.

_Three years ago, Vigil's Keep_

"Do all of you have to watch this?" Anders was in the practice yard with Fenris. He glared at all of the wardens that had shown up to see the spectacle. When Fenris had informed him that he would be teaching Anders how to fight without his staff or magic, Anders hadn't wanted to do it at first. But Fenris had been insistent that Anders knew how to defend himself and not rely solely on magic.

"We're rooting for you, Anders!" Merrill called. She sat on the ground with Sigrun and Christopher. Denerou stood next to them and waved.

"I know _you_ are," Anders said. He pointed at the other group of people. "But they aren't."

"I'm only here to watch the elf trounce you." Oghren laughed. "I also want to see how you're going to fight in those skirts. Five sovereigns says the mage gets knocked on his ass in five seconds."

"I'll take that," Nate said.

"I give it three." Velanna jiggled her coin pouch.

"Ah, then I will throw in for four seconds." Zevran rubbed his hands together. "What about you, my dear warden?"

Aedan waved them off. "If all of you want Anders to decline to heal you next time you need it, then go ahead. I'm not taking any chances."

"You should listen to him," Anders called. He tightened his grip on the wooden practice sword. Maker, he felt like a child with it.

"As I was saying before we were interrupted," Fenris sent a baleful glare at both of the groups, "You need to widen your stance. How you place your feet and legs are very important. If you don't have balance, then you will fall or trip. I've seen how you stand when you are wielding your staff, it is the same thing."

Anders shifted his legs so his feet were planted firmer on the ground.

"Good. Now, try to stop me." With a cry, Fenris charged at Anders. The elf's practice sword swung up high over his head, and Anders lifted his weapon to block the strike. The wood clacked against each other, and Anders stumbled backwards, but did not fall.

"Again," Fenris yelled. He didn't give Anders much time before he was attacking again. Each blow pushed Anders further and further back across the practice yard. Anders' foot hit a rock and he went tumbling backwards to the ground. He sat there panting, while Fenris touched the tip of the wooden sword to his throat.

"Have mercy, love," Anders gasped. "I told you I wasn't going to be any good at this."

"No, we'll do this every day until you are proficient enough at it. I need to know that you can protect yourself in any given situation." Fenris moved his sword and took a step back. He glanced over at Aedan. "Time?"

"Fifteen seconds." Aedan scowled. "Looks like I owe you some gold. I thought it was going to take ten."

"Whatever happened to not pissing off the healer?" Anders stood up and brushed the dust off his backside.

It was Fenris who answered. "I had a feeling about how long you could handle it this first time. Aedan just bought us some lovely Antivan wine."

_Present day, The Archon's Tower_

Anders blocked the incoming strike and ducked to the side. His sword slashed out, hitting a guard in the arm, while he kicked the other in the back, knocking him down. Behind the guards that surrounded him, was a large door.

He had to reach the door.

He heard chanting and turned, flinging out his free hand towards Plinius. "Who's the weak one now, you bastard?" The magister's eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he tumbled to the ground. The sleep spell caught the guards closest to him, and they followed him to the floor.

Pain slammed into him as one of the guards ran the edge of his blade along Anders' side. The mage ignored it, as he recalled what Fenris had told him.

_If you are injured in the middle of battle, it does not matter. Do not hesitate. Do not stop to check your wounds. That will kill you faster than any bleeding cut._

Adrenaline and terror spurred him on, and Anders leapt over the fallen bodies and ran for the door. He could hear the staccato of plate clad boots on the floor as the guards gave chase.

 _Please be unlocked_ , he thought franticly. _Please be unlocked._

His hand fumbled with the latch and he pulled. The door swung open, cool night air sweeping into the room. Without a moment's thought, he rushed out into the night, evading the grasping hands of the guards posted just outside.

Anders weaved through the city, running down side streets and alleyways. He ran until his lungs burned, unable to catch a breath. He ran until all he could hear was the pounding of his beating heart. He ran until his legs muscles were screaming in pain.

He ran until he could run no more, and then he ran a bit further.

By the time he was sure that he had lost the guards, Anders found himself in an alley, hunched down behind some crates filled with had to be garbage. It smelled horrible, but Anders didn't care. It was the smell of freedom.

Anders whole body began to shake, and his hands trembled as he covered his mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape.

The templars of Ferelden never did learn that they couldn't keep Anders for very long. It seemed that the Archon was learning this lesson as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The office finally cooled down so I can start writing more often again.

Fenris sank back further into the shadows as Zevran walked into their room with his contact. He had drawn up the hood of his cloak, and made himself as unobtrusive as possible. It went against his nature, but being a slave had taught him the value of not being seen.

The wardens, Carver and Zevran had made their way through the city to the Dancing Qunari inn. The building had a wooden qunari hanging above the door, frozen in mid dance and a smile on his face. Merrill had laughed when she had seen it, and had to be dragged inside before she brought attention to them. Zevran had said that though it had been many years since he had last been there, he was confident that the inn wouldn't ask any questions once they saw gold.

They needed information, which had led to Zevran disappearing for an hour. When they heard voices coming down the hall towards their room on the second floor, Fenris had slipped into the shadows. It was easy to do in a room like this. It was bare except for a lone bed with a frame that looked like it was rotting. A single lamp was lit and sitting in the middle of the room, casting shadows in every direction. With the amount of people they had stuffed in one room, Fenris was hopeful his presence would be ignored.

The door opened and Zevran slipped inside with another man. He was short, and had a vaguely rat like look about him. His eyes darted around constantly, as if he was unable to keep them from moving. Fenris could have sworn he had even seen his nose twitch a few times. With his wispy brown hair and patched leggings and stained tunic, Fenris thought that his original assessment of a rat just might have been right.

"When you said you had friends with you, Zevran, I didn't know there would be so many." His voice came out in a rush and he backed towards the door Zevran had closed behind them.

"If I had told you how many then you would not have come, Tatius." Zevran sent the man a grin that was meant to reassure. "Just give us the information we need and you can have your gold. Now I must ask you to refrain from speaking Arcanum. I might understand your wonderful language, but my friends do not."

That wasn't entirely true. Besides Fenris, Christopher could read and write in Arcanum. Anders had been teaching some of his students, so that he didn't have to translate the Tevinter books of anatomy the healers used.

Fenris thought that Anders just wanted to be able to teach other mages how to read and write in Arcanum, as yet another rebellion against the Circle.

"Fifty gold," Tatius said. "What you want to know is dangerous, and I don't fancy the Archon's guards finding out I told you."

"Fifty?" Carver exclaimed. "That's robbery."

Tatius gave Zevran a significant look and the assassin shrugged. "Ignore him. He is young and doesn't know how the world works yet."

"Maybe so, but the pup needs to learn some respect. Nothing goes on in Minrathous that I don't know about. I could tell you what the Divine Cato had for breakfast this morning, down to the last detail." It was then that Fenris realized what Tatius was doing. He wasn't constantly looking around because he was paranoid, but because he was cataloguing them.

"You didn't know how many of us were here," Merrill piped up.

Tatius laughed. "That's because Zevran is good, and I didn't know you were in the city. In a few hours I would have known all." He glanced behind him and stared directly at Fenris. "I even would have known about your friend in the shadows."

"So you say…" Fenris growled.

Tatius' eyes lit up. "Traces of a Tevinter accent, but it's a little off. A slave maybe? Sometimes they mimic the speech patterns of their masters." He tilted his head to the side. "Seheron. You were born there, or at spent a great deal of time there."

Fenris' eyes narrowed in warning even though Tatius couldn't see it. "Do you even know the information we seek? Or do you want to play games?"

The rat shot Zevran another look. "You are keeping boring company, my friend. I pity you."

"What do you know?" Aedan spoke up for the first time. He had his arms crossed and he was leaning casually against the wall. If Fenris hadn't known that Aedan had paced the while time that Zevran had been gone, he might have believed his indifference now.

"Ah! I hear the jingle of coin and you hear what you need to know." Tatius held his hand out and wiggled his fingers.

With a roll of his eyes, Carver walked over to him and slapped a pouch full of coin in his hand. "Fifty is all I have, this better be worth it."

Tatius grinned and jiggled the pouch. Nodding in satisfaction, the pouch quickly disappeared into his tunic. "Now, you wish to know about a guest of the Archon? I know of him. Plinius Scipio has been very vocal about what he sees as his triumph in bringing him to the Archon." He looked from one person to another, making sure that each one was listening to his every word. It reminded Fenris of the look Varric would get when telling a tale. Maybe Tatius served the same sort of function in Minrathous. Varric collected information the way some collected lovers.

"Two hours ago, your friend escaped the Archon's Tower. Poor Plinius will not be so favored now. It's a shame really, the games are to be held tomorrow and no one in the tower has cancelled them." A malicious grin spread over his face. "They can't you see, it would be admitting that not all is well, and Minrathous' royal guest was less than willing."

Fenris' heart stopped. Anders had escaped. He felt a surge of pride. _That_ was his rebellious mage. Nothing could hold him if he did not wish it. But it also meant that Anders was loose in a city he did not know, with the guards looking for him. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Oh?" Tatius turned too perceptive eyes on him. "That sounded fairly possessive… And now I know who you are, Fenris. The Imperium has been looking for you."

Fenris took a menacing step towards him, but Zevran moved between them. "You know better than to turn on me, Tatius. We are old friends, no? You give me information, I kill your competitors. I would hate for something to ruin such a good relationship of long standing."

"I'm not a fool, Zevran. You travel to Minrathous and get into the city without me knowing. You are accompanied by an elf who everyone is looking for and the First Warden. I don't know who these others are, and I have a feeling, that even if I did, it wouldn't matter. I trade in information, and business is good when the city is unstable. Your friends are about to make the city very unstable indeed. Plus, I would rather not have to go to sleep the rest of my life with one eye open."

The two men locked eyes, each assessing the other. Zevran's face broke out in a grin. He clapped Tatius on the back. "You would never be able to sleep again, you know that."

Tatius laughed. "I would be dead before I even left the room. I've heard the stories of what you did to the Crows. That was masterful. Did you really cut out the heart of the guild master and stuff it in his mouth? I thought to myself, 'Tatius, never piss off Zev,' when I heard that."

"Actually I—"

Aedan cleared his throat. "As wonderful as this reunion is, you haven't answered the question. Where is Anders now?"

"Where does one go when they wish to hide in a city?" Tatius asked.

Fenris sucked in a breath. Where Anders had always gone. The one place you could count on not to ask questions, and was always in need of a good healer. "A brothel."

Tatius smiled at Fenris. "Exactly."

* * *

Anders scraped the razor down his jaw. The room the madam had given him was small. It had barely enough room for the bed and washbasin, but he realized that it contained everything a whore would need to ply her trade. The Mage's Staff was not as high class as the Blooming Rose or the Pearl, but it still was just as welcoming to a mage that needed to get off the streets. Anders had wandered Minrathous until he had found himself in front of the brothel. Old habits die hard, and Anders had learned early on that when one escaped a tower, you better get your ass to a brothel. The templars would venture into deep caves and dense woods looking for an apostate, but a brothel? Any templar in one, shouldn't be there in the first place, and would have a hard time explaining just what they were doing when they found the apostate. Anders was lucky that he was jovial and could heal well. If he was going to get caught anyway, he might as well have some fun on the house beforehand.

Tevinter wasn't the rest of Thedas, though, and Anders wasn't sure how long this safe haven would last. He also had only guards looking him. But he had a place for the rest of the night, and a chance to get cleaned up and healed before he had to move on and find a way out of the city.

He wiped his face down with a wet cloth and looked at himself in the cracked and dingy mirror. Maker above, he looked like shit. The combination of stress and magebane slowly poisoning his system, had left their mark. He had lost weight, and his eyes appeared sunken. At least he had finally gotten rid of that blasted beard. The thing had blighted itched. No wonder dwarves were so cranky all the time.

He had finagled clothes out of the madam and slipped into a plain brown pair of worn leggings. He winced at the pull of the wound on his side. He had fixed his nose first, setting the break and knitting the bone together. The bruises that had begun to form around his eyes were gone. He didn't have full use of his magic back, so he had decided that healing his face was more imperative than his side.

He was regretting that now.

He had given the madam his expensive robes, telling her that she could sell them if she wished. Even blood stained, it could be torn apart at the seams and still salvaged. She hadn't given her name, and hadn't asked for Anders'. Both of them knew without saying that it was safer that way. A mage didn't suddenly show up at the back of a brothel, bloody and asking for a place to stay in exchange for services, unless there was a story behind it. She didn't care.

She gave Anders a room, new clothes, and the razor and soap. He was expected to be able to heal like he'd promised in the morning. He had a feeling that if his magic hadn't returned by then, she was going to have the guards come by and take him off her hands.

For a reward of course, she was a good citizen of the Imperium.

Anders wrung out the cloth and dabbed at his wound in an attempt to clean it. He gritted his teeth at the pain. He hoped that the magebane would be finally out of his system by morning, if it wasn't, he was going to have to make another hasty escape. Once it was as clean as he could make it, he rinsed out the cloth again and pressed it to the wound. He climbed into the bed, eschewing the tunic, but not his leggings and boots. If he had to make a run for it, it was better to do it shirtless than naked. He couldn't risk his wound opening in the night and staining the tunic. Not that anyone would notice. Who knows what was on that thing.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, exhaustion swamped him. His last thought before he fell asleep, was that he hoped Fenris had not gotten the Eluvian to work, and that he was still at Weisshaupt.

* * *

"You were very naughty, Anders."

Anders turned in place, taking in the massive and ornate room. "Really, Feynriel? You can dream up anything and you decide to have us in a throne room?"

Feynriel smiled from his place on the golden throne. "I like it here. The chair is comfy. What would you prefer instead? A brothel?"

"Oh, come off it. You obviously know where I am. Let me guess, guards are coming to get me as we speak." Oh, fuck. Anders had to wake up. He had to get out of the building. Anders stumbled backwards and sat down hard in a chair that appeared abruptly behind him. It was an exact match for the throne Feynriel sat in. "All right, it is comfortable. I'll give you that."

Laughing, Feynriel sank deeper into his seat. "No guards. Something else is coming for you. Gaius has informed the Divine of your escape, and his templars seek you as we speak. I'm to keep you busy and asleep until they arrive."

Anders knew he wasn't really breathing, only dreaming, but the air seized in his lungs all the same. "Let me wake up. Please. I have to get out of the city."

The look Feynriel gave him was one of pity. "I can't. You came at a bad time. My master wants to become Archon, and he thinks he can use you to do it. I'm not going to allow his plans to fall apart. I've done enough for you. If it's any conciliation, the Divine does not want you on the throne any more than Gaius does. We're already fighting a war on one side with the qunari, a war with the Anderfels will cripple us."

Anders shot to his feet. "I saved you! Marian and I both. We fought for you when the Keeper wanted you to be made Tranquil. When _you_ wanted to be Tranquil. You were a good kid that just needed a chance, if there is anything of him still in you then let me wake up."

"You're acting like I'm doing something evil." Feynriel became incredulous. "Did you know Fenris and others are in the city? I saw a dream of their passage from a slave that works in an inn. "Believe it or not, the Divine's intervention might be your only way of surviving. The Archon cannot touch you if you are in the Divine's hands."

Fenris had done it. He had made the Eluvian work. Anders had to get out of the Fade and find him, before it was too late. His elation was short lived. "I don't understand. Why does the Black Divine want me?"

"Not you, but your lover. Your escape has changed Gaius' plans, and he intends to use the embarrassment of your escape to his advantage. The Black Divine wants Fenris, Gaius wants you out of the Archon's reach. It is a simple arrangement."

"No! It's not simple. You're playing with lives, Feynriel. Maker, what has this place done to you?"

Feynriel shook his head slowly. "You still don't get it. Archon Therion is insane."

"Because no Archon was ever insane," Anders muttered.

Feynriel continued on as if he had not heard him. "He will rip Tevinter apart. If he is not overthrown, then there is no hope for us, or the rest of Thedas. Danarius was mad for creating Fenris, and Therion is mad for continuing what he started. The Divine has no wish to see the Imperium play the villain again and bring down the Maker's wrath. The Imperial Chantry might be your only hope of survival, your lover's only hope of survival. Go with the templars."

Anders threw back his head and laughed. "And _you_ still don't get it. I have never gone anywhere with a templar and had it end well." If all towers were the same, then all templars were the same, even in the mage loving Imperium.

Sighing, Feynriel waved a hand. The throne room began to dissolve, crumbling down from the roof and dissipating in the air. "Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. I'm sorry you can't see that."

* * *

As they approached the brothel that Tatius had said Anders was in, Fenris picked up his pace until he was almost running. Just one more street, one more street and he would have his Anders back. One more street and they could flee Minrathous through the Eluvian. He could hear the others pounding down the street behind him. No one tried to stop him or get him to slow down, they knew better than that.

Just as he was about to round a corner, a scream ripped through the air. It was full of rage, and it sounded just like—

"Get your hands off of me! Ask Plinius what I did to him the last time someone tried to catch me."

Time seemed to slow down as Fenris turned the corner and the brothel came into view. There standing amidst a large group of templars, was Anders. His hair was different—shorter—and fell in a tangle just below his jaw. He was shirtless, and Fenris could see his ribs standing out starkly. His body looked like how it had when they had first been together those many years ago. Underfed from the constant demands of his clinic and Justice, Fenris had worked hard to make sure that Anders took better care of himself after they had reached the Vigil. But he still had that same cocky smile on his face, that same look in his eyes when he was determined that nothing was going to stop him.

Fenris didn't see the templars surrounding his lover. He didn't hear the cries of his companions to stop. All he saw was Anders, his Anders. And he was alive. Fenris rushed towards the mage. "Anders!"

Anders jerked his head up and his eyes grew wide with shock. His mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "Love," he whispered. The templars nearest to him used the opportunity to grab him. One of them jerked his arms behind him, and manacled his wrists together. Anders began to writhe, struggling against the templars. Arms went around his chest and waist, holding him back as templars stepped in front of him, their swords drawn. "Fenris, run!"

Lips curling into a snarl, Fenris' brands flashed to life. "Don't ever tell me to run, mage." With a cry he plunged right in the midst of the templars, faster than they could see him. His sword was still strapped to his back, and he used his bare hands to tear through them. He ripped the heart out of one, while another he crushed their skull, reaching through their helmet. A sword swiped at his right arm, but he felt no pain—only rage. No one was taking Anders from him again.

No one.

All around him, battle ensued as the others joined the fray. Fenris pushed forward, ignoring all else except meeting his goal. By the time he reached Anders, his arms were soaked passed the elbow in blood. It dripped off the clawed tips of his gauntlets, splattering to the cobblestone street. He was a glowing demon of vengeance, and the full force of his gaze was on the templar that held Anders in his arms. He tilted his head to the side, like a cat considering if it should play with a mouse, or just eat it.

"Let him go and your death will be quick." His chest rose and fell, the breath seesawing in and out of his mouth. "Now…" Fenris' voice was deathly quiet, as if he knew that he didn't need to shout to make his point.

The templar whimpered, and Fenris sneered at the sound. He abruptly let Anders go and took a frightened step back. "Please… Don't kill me. We were only—"

"I don't care," Fenris said as he rushed forward and plunged his hand into the templar's chest. He jerked his arm back, tearing out the man's heart. He dropped it negligently to the ground.

"Love…"

Fenris whirled around and was on Anders in an instant. He tunneled his fingers through Anders' hair and brought his mouth down for a kiss, unmindful of the blood and gore he was smearing on his lover. Their mouths met and moved over each other, saying all the things they needed to without words.

_I missed you._

_Are you all right?_

_I'm fine._

_I love you._

_I love you._

On and on the kiss went. It was filled with fierce desperation, love and lust. The sounds of battle died down, but Fenris was oblivious to it. He felt wetness on his face and pulled back just far enough to see the tears in Anders' eyes. "Don't cry," Fenris whispered.

Anders cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "I'll stop when you do."

"I am not crying," Fenris insisted.

Touching their foreheads together, Anders smiled. "Sure you aren't, love. Now, could you please get me out of these manacles and get me home? You're right, Tevinter is awful."

His body jerked to the side when Merrill latched onto him. "Anders! I missed you. What were you doing at a brothel? Christopher said it was so you could hide and cure people, but I can't figure out why you would do that at a brothel. Don't people go to a clinic? Ew, Fenris got you all bloody." She moved away from him.

Zevran moved behind Anders to work on the lock to his manacles. "I don't think he minds the blood so much, yes?"

"Not listening!" shouted Carver. "Can we hurry up, please? I don't want to be here when they discover the dead templars with the holes in their chests."

"But it is so enlightening."

Everyone froze and turned to the sound of the voice. Gaius stood at the end of the street, Feynriel next him. Behind him were a dozen mages and guards. "It is fortunate that all of you are here together. It will save me a lot of time." Behind him, the mages began chanting.

"Carver," Aedan cried. "Stop them!" But before Carver could cast a single smite, the full force of the spell slammed into them.

"I thought it was poetic to have them put all of you to sleep, considering what Anders did to Plinius."

As the heavy blanket of sleep descended on him, Fenris had the presence of mind to grab Anders and take the brunt of the mage's fall. He crumpled to the ground, Anders on top of him.

"I will… kill… all of… you," Fenris mumbled as his eyes slid shut.

"I don't doubt that you will try," Gaius said. His voice seemed distant as Fenris slipped into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

The Argent Spire in Minrathous could be seen from almost anywhere in the city. It was the home of the Divine of the Imperial Chantry, the Divine Cato. All over Thedas, he was known as the Black Divine, the antitheses of the White Divine in Orlais. He was also a mage, like all Black Divines since the schism between Tevinter and the Orlesian Chantry. Four Exalted Marches were called over the centuries against Minrathous, but none could ever take the city. Minrathous was steeped in old magic, and the Juggernauts that ringed the city walls made it almost impregnable.

Fenris had always hated how Andraste was seen as the savior of slaves. She had done nothing for the slaves, and the Orlesian Chantry was filled with nothing but hypocrites. What had she done, really? Tevinter still stood. They had lost their grip on most of Thedas, but the slave trade still thrived to this day. Tevinter slavers made constant forays into the rest of Thedas, yet nothing was ever done about it. Fenris knew why that was. Most of the people taken were elves, mainly from the city. No one cared about their plight. They were segregated in every city, and those that thought to flee to the dalish to a better life, found only derision. The dalish did not want them. The humans did not want them unless they were servants or whores. Elves held no office. They had no say in how the city that they contributed to was run. No one cared if they were taken to Tevinter and sold.

He had hated going to the alienage in Kirkwall. It was living proof that freedom from the magisters was barely any freedom at all. His sister had been right on that account. Merrill always spoke to Fenris as if he was one of the dalish, as if because they shared the same features that he should feel some sort of kinship with her.

Not with the dalish. Never with them.

They referred to themselves as the last of the elvhen, and ignored the plight of those in the city and all over Tevinter. Fenris held them in distain. They were the same level of hypocrite as the Chantry. They too pretended that elves were not being taken from the cities to be enslaved in Tevinter

Sebastian Vael had seen Fenris as some sort of project, questioning his belief in the Maker and the good he had brought to Fenris' life. Fenris had a firm stance that the Maker had done nothing for him, and it had been Fenris himself that had brought him any good fortune he'd ever had.

It wasn't that he didn't believe. He just felt that the elven slaves were forgotten by the Maker the same way they were forgotten by the rest of Thedas.

The Imperial Chantry taught that Andraste was just a woman, not the Maker's bride. It had been the cause of the break between the Orlesian Chantry and the one in Tevinter. The Black Divine was held up as the worst in heresy, their existence the cause of several Exalted Marches. He or she was seen as what was wrong in Tevinter. A magister who had risen up high enough to be counted as the mouth piece of the Maker himself.

Cato had been the Divine for the Imperial Chantry for over thirty years. He was beloved in all of Tevinter. He was a mage that commanded the templars of Tevinter, and could be seen as more powerful than any Archon. On his word, any magister could be dragged in chains down the streets of Minrathous. The senate stopped and listened when he spoke, and his favor was curried by all.

And Fenris was about to meet him.

If there had been anyone in Tevinter that Danarius had feared, it was Cato. While he flaunted his deadly, lyrium infused slave, he had also been very careful. Fenris wondered just when Danarius had told others what it was he had done to Fenris and why. If the line between what was acceptable for a mage to do or not was in a different place in Tevinter than the rest of Thedas, then it was men like Cato that said where the line was.

Fenris had awakened in a rage. He had paced the well-appointed room he and the others had been placed in and eyed the door. To their surprise, none of them had been disarmed. On the contrary, all of their wounds had been healed and the blood cleaned from their skin and armor. It was downright unnerving. Not only had someone touched him without his permission, he hadn't even been awake for the violation. Not having control over what happened to his own body was one of his greatest fears. He had endured enough of that with Danarius to last several lifetimes.

Leaving them armed hadn't helped with his anger and wariness either. It meant that they did not fear them, and that letting them have their weapons and armor was for their own comfort, not the Divine's. They were in the Argent Spire, a twisted tower of old Tevinter that outdated the Archon's Tower and half of Minrathous. If the Black Divine did not fear an Exalted March, then he most certainly did not fear a few wardens, a templar, and an ex-Crow.

If anything stated more clearly what kind of danger they were in, Fenris did not know of it.

By the time the templars came for them, Fenris had worked himself up in a fine rage. He had lunged forward as soon as the door opened, his sword drawn back for a deadly strike and his body enveloped in the glow of his markings. The others had shouted behind him, but he had paid them no heed. In the end it hadn't mattered. The templars and mages that had swarmed into the room had him and the others frozen in place, Fenris with his face twisted in anger. It didn't matter what Fenris or the others wanted. They were to see the Divine.

* * *

A group of templars ringed them as they walked through the corridors of the Argent Spire. One could see old Tevinter in every pillar, and in every statue. There were images of the Black City, and the Golden City everywhere. Unlike most of the towers in Minrathous, this one was not carved from a great block of marble, but built from smooth stone. Fenris didn't know what it was, and he was sure he wouldn't like the answer if he were to ask.

Anders didn't know what to expect when he saw the Black Divine, but the man in front of them wasn't it. The light from the magically lit chandelier above them shined off his hairless scalp. He had no eyebrows or facial hair either, and it made him look utterly eerie. The only sign of his age were the deep wrinkles lining his face, and his heavily veined hands. As opposed to the more ornate robes of the magisters that Anders had seen so far, the Divine's were of plain, undyed linen. His blue eyes were so pale they were almost white, and they seemed to look right through each of them as they entered the sparse room.

The room acted as a Chantry, Anders could tell that much. But there were no signs of Andraste anywhere. A grand altar with hundreds of candles lining the floor in front of it, stood behind Cato. The red wax that dripped and pooled from the candles made the altar appear as if it was sitting in a pool of blood.

Anders didn't much care for that thought.

In a twisted way, Anders was a bit disappointed in the Black Divine. Stories were told of the Black Divine in the Circle. He was used to scare children into behaving, of what could happen if you turned from the Maker and didn't eat all of your peas. The Black Divine sat in Minrathous like a spider, waiting for good little Andrastans to come along so he could gobble them up.

Really, the man didn't even have the decency to shoot flames from his eyes to sear the souls of the unfaithful.

Anders squeezed Fenris' fingers. Since they had awakened, neither of them had been able to stop touching the other for long. Anders kept sneaking looks at him to see if he was real. And Maker help him, what had Fenris done to his hair? It was odd to see Fenris with dark hair in the waking world. He understood why the elf had done it, but it looked off. Maybe it was because Anders was so used to his white locks that it seemed so strange. Zevran had reassured him that it would wash out, and Anders was holding him to that.

Not that it had done them any good.

Templars filled the room and lined every wall. They became nameless, faceless statues that would come to life the moment Cato gave the word, or if they thought the Divine was threatened. Even armed as the wardens were, they stood no chance against the might of the Imperial Chantry. Make it out of the room? Yes. Make it all the way out of the spire? That wasn't going to happen.

Not that Fenris or Aedan wouldn't try if it came to it.

 _Oh, fuck me_ , Anders thought. _Aedan would get off on the attempt._

Anders had been dressed in a plain set of robes while he slept, and he was actually grateful for it. How embarrassing would it be if he met the Black Divine shirtless?

His magic had returned to him—thank the Maker. Only time would tell if there would be any permanent effects from the magebane. It would mostly manifest itself into stomach issues, the lining eroded from a month of ingestion.

No one said a word as the Divine looked at each one of them in turn. The hairlessness aside, he looked like a kindly old grandfather. When he spoke it reminded Anders of warm fireplaces and a cozy night spent listening to tales. Or at least, that's how he had always thought a grandfather should be. His experience of old men, were crotchety mages from the Circle that liked to swat the children on their backsides with their staffs if they weren't paying attention during lessons.

Anders had taken pride in not being able to sit down during the dinner meals because he had goofed off too much during his lessons. He glanced at Fenris. Some things never changed.

"I am sorry we had to meet this way," Cato began. "I hope that there will be no strife between us because of it."

Aedan, Carver and Fenris all snorted in derision at the same time. Anders blinked. This was not going to end well.

"Say your piece and then we will be on our way," Aedan said. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. "Do you know who I am?"

Anders squeezed his eyes shut. _Be quiet, Aedan_ , he pleaded silently. But Aedan was Aedan and now he was pissed off. Combine that with Carver and Fenris, and it was a dwarven powder keg just waiting for the smallest spark to ignite.

Thankfully, the Divine seemed to sense this. "I know who you are Aedan Cousland, First Warden of the Grey. The Imperial Chantry has no wish to anger the Grey Wardens."

"Too late," Aedan replied. "The Archon took one of mine and we came to retrieve him. Why is the Imperial Chantry hindering our departure?"

Okay, Anders hadn't expected that. Maybe Aedan had learned some diplomacy since he became First Warden.

"Say what you must, and then we're leaving. Unless you want to see what it looks like when a group of wardens, use to fighting darkspawn in some of the worst parts of the Deep Roads, are let loose against men."

Then again, maybe he hadn't.

Cato only smiled. "I see the rumors about you were not exaggerated. Good, you will need your fierceness and that of your wardens."

Aedan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? It's not like you don't know where Weisshaupt is. If you needed warden aid…"

"That may have been so, but things are coming to a head too quickly and there was no time. Therion moved before Gaius could stop him in capturing your warden. There was little I could do."

"Don't tell spread your lies," Fenris snapped. "You are the Divine of Tevinter. All magisters listen when you speak."

Cato turned his eyes on Fenris. "You are greatly mistaken. I might have power in Tevinter, but they do not listen when I speak. They listen when I threaten, which I rarely do. I am not the White Divine. I do not seek to rule through threats of Exalted Marches if the senate does not toe the line. I have been the Divine for longer than you have been alive, I'll wager. I did not get to my position by being foolish. The current unrest in the senate and the schemes of Gaius and the Archon, mean nothing in the face of what I must ask you to do."

Now it was Fenris' turn to squeeze Anders' hand. "What do you wish of us?"

"I wish for you to right a terrible wrong. One of several that has plagued me since they became known to me. Tevinter cannot continue as it has been. We are insular from the rest of Thedas. Only the dwarves freely trade with us. We traffic in slaves, and blood magic runs rampant in the most noble of houses. We will destroy ourselves before the qunari can. I wish to save those that I can before I die."

Slowly, Aedan uncrossed his arms. "What are you proposing?"

Cato clasped his hands behind his back and slowly paced the room. "What do you know of what Danarius did to your warden?"

"I am right here," Fenris snapped.

 _Don't piss off the Black Divine, love_ , Anders thought. He was practically trying to crush Fenris' fingers in his own in warning, Fenris' gauntlet cutting into his skin. When did he become the silent, practical one?

When he had to survive being held in a tower by the blighted Archon of Tevinter.

"My apologies." Cato paused and gave Fenris a small incline of his head. "I direct my question to you."

"I know he thought he could get to the Black City," Fenris said with gritted teeth. "I know that he was insane, and the ritual he enacted was so painful that it wiped everything from my memories from before that time. I know I would rather die than be used in that fashion."

"The ritual you speak of was one discovered in this very spire. In fact, I was the one that directed Danarius to it, more fool I."

Anders almost had his arm wrenched out of his socket when Fenris lunged forward. "You! You gave him the means to do this to me!" As one, the templars withdrew their swords and took a single step forward. The sound of that much plate moving at once was almost deafening, and sent chills down Anders' spine. Ander held on tightly to Fenris, pulling him back.

Cato waved a hand and the templars moved back to their positions against the walls. "I didn't know what he would do. If I had, he never would have gained the knowledge he needed. I have no wish for anyone to return to the Black City."

"Is that really true?" Carver asked. "I've seen what the Golden City did to the ancient magisters. It twisted and corrupted them. "

Cato looked at Carver, taking in his unadorned armor and the angry set of his jaw. "Tell me, young templar, does your Chantry still make their templars become lyrium addicts? I would have thought they would have long stopped using the practice."

Carver looked taken aback. "How—"

"Gaius was kind enough to lend his apprentice to me while you slept. I needed to know who I was going to be dealing with."

Like Fenris, Carver lunged forward and was only held back by a dismayed Merrill and Christopher. This time, the templars did not even so much as twitch.

"Are we going to get to the point any time soon?" Aedan asked. "You hold us against our wills, you violate our minds while we sleep, and now you won't get to the fucking point. I'm beginning to think that whatever you want from us, we won't be obliging you."

Cato clapped his hands and laughed. "Oh, that is refreshing. The people of Minrathous only speak in half-truths and riddles. It has been a long time since I talked with a plain spoken man."

This wasn't happening right? Feynriel was only messing with Anders and he was dreaming in the Fade. Aedan did not just threaten the Black Divine, and the man only laughed and seemed pleased.

"I will get to the point then. When the ancient magisters first stepped into the Golden City, they did so by sacrificing hundreds of slaves and using two thirds of the city's lyrium supply. Through trial and error they were eventually able to succeed in creating one such as your warden. But going to the Golden City was not their original intent, only a byproduct of their true purpose."

Anders and Fenris shared a look. The mage could read what Fenris was feeling, even without words.

_What more is there? What did he do to me?_

To anyone else, Fenris seemed impassive. But Anders could feel the fear in the tension of Fenris' body. Anders mouthed a quick 'I love you', before glancing back to Cato.

"Tell me, do you know what an Eluvian is?" Cato asked.

Behind Anders, Merrill gasped. He looked back to see her cover her mouth with her fingers, and her eyes widen in horror. "No," she whispered.

Cato acted as if he did not hear her. "It is a tool of the elvhen. They seem like mirrors that that do not reflect, but they are so much more. The magisters wanted to use them as the elvhen once did, as a way to communicate over long distances, and even to travel. No elvhen would give up the secrets of the mirrors, but that did not stop the magisters. They used an ancient elvhen rite, twisting and perverting it for their own gain. In doing so, they discovered that they could tear through the Veil itself and step bodily into the Fade. In time, they used a ritual like the one to get inside the Golden City against the elvhen."

Merrill began to sob. Christopher put his arms around her, while Carver moved closer to the elf.

"They ripped through the Veil again, creating a tear so large, that the earth itself collapsed from the power. The elvhen city of Arlathan was swallowed by the earth and lost."

"No!" Merrill cried. "You don't know what you're talking about. The city might have been lost, but the elvhen still live on. They escaped the destruction, taking their knowledge and leaving this world."

"The dalish have been telling this tale for centuries," Zevran said softly. "Only some of your version is new."

"But don't the dalish say that they took with them dragons and demons?" Cato asked. "Yet dragons have been appearing once more in this world. Demons are the way for your Chantry to enslave mages. I believe the elvhen are not gone, not completely."

"You want Fenris to find the elvhen," Anders said incredulously. "That's insane, why?" Oh, well there went keeping his mouth shut.

"It was their rite-twisted as it was-that allowed the magisters to enter the Golden City. The magisters were cursed, creating the first darkspawn. For too long Tevinter has stood for everything evil in Thedas, and we have done nothing to discourage that. We are beset by the qunari, and now Therion wishes to start a war with the Anderfels. No one would come to our aid. No one would believe us if we said it was the doing of one mad Archon. We are Tevinter, and we will always be thought of as liars. Finding a way into the city of Arlathan, might bring about a way to end the Blights. It was their magic that started it. It might be their magic that ends it. If that could be accomplished, then maybe Tevinter could begin to change in the eyes of the rest of Thedas."

 _Not likely_ , Anders thought. Tevinter was also known for their slavers and blood mages. He glanced over his shoulder at Aedan. Fuck, Aedan seemed interested now. Aedan had spent the better part of over a decade trying to find a way to end the Blights. And now here was a man telling him there might be an answer.

Cato looked at Fenris. "It was no coincidence that you were chosen. Danarius needed an elf, one with a strong will. The games he arranged were meant to weed out those that could not handle the ritual." He pointed at Merrill. "It is also no coincidence that the lyrium under your skin could be at first taken for ornate, dalish tattoos. Danarius did not care about the Eluvians, just as the magisters forgot their original purpose."

"I once knew someone who thought they could end the Blights," Aedan began slowly. "He did not know what he was dealing with, and it caused untold harm. What makes you think that this will be different?"

Cato gave Aedan a self-satisfied grin. "Because I have an Eluvian, and I believe that there still might be some located in the sunken city. I cannot bring it to life, but I would be willing to bet your warden can. I'm asking you, Aedan Cousland, First Warden of the Grey, of those that are sworn to combat the Blight above all else. I am formally requesting for aid on behalf of Tevinter. I am asking on behalf of every citizen of the Imperium, of every slave and every magister."

In reply, Aedan threw back his head and laughed.


	12. Chapter 12

Aedan and Fenris had been arguing for an hour, and neither one were backing down anytime soon. They were all gathered in the room Aedan and Zevran had been given, the remnants of their meal scattered on a table.

"I refuse," Fenris snarled. "We have a way out of here. Let us take it and be done with this place."

"We might have a way to stop the Blights, Fenris. As wardens, it's our duty to investigate this." Aedan had his arms crossed and his jaw was set in stubborn lines. They both had been around and around the same arguments until Anders was about to scream to get them to stop.

"Cato as insane as Therion is," Fenris shot back. "Let Minrathous tear itself apart, we are under no obligation to save them."

"Yes, we are," Aedan pointed out. "There might not be a warden presence in Tevinter, but if it concerns the Blights and darkspawn, then we are under oath and obligation to lend aid."

"Because that has worked so wonderfully in the past." Fenris' hand slashed in the air. "Your obsession with ending the Blights will get all of us killed. I will have no part of it."

Anders sucked in a breath. _Don't go there, love. Please don't go there._

"What's that supposed to mean," Aedan asked.

"Exactly what you think." Fenris ticked off a finger at a time as he went down the list. "You had a chance to kill the Architect, and yet you did not. Instead, you let him live, and do Maker only knows what in the Deep Roads, with minimal to no interference from you. A creature that admitted he started the last Blight through his experiments. He is dangerous, and all signs point to him having been one of the magisters that entered the Golden City. Corypheus seemed to know him. Yet even after all that, you let him live a second time. He took my sister from me. He took Velanna's sister from her, yet this darkspawn still lives. Why? Because Aedan Cousland knows best. Because his word is law and he will find a way to end the Blights, no matter who is hurt in the process."

The room went deathly quiet. Anders inched his way towards Fenris, he didn't like the way the First Warden and the elf were eyeing each other. He didn't like this idea any better than Fenris. But if there was a way, however small, to stop the Blights, they had to find out. Aedan was right about that much. But he had never seen Fenris and Aedan argue the way they were now. Over the years, the two of them could go at it at the drop of a pin, but this was different.

"You go too far, my friend," Zevran said quietly.

"Do I?" Fenris turned on the assassin. "Or maybe it was time someone told him the truth."

"Enough," Aedan whispered. Then louder, "Enough!" he slammed a fist onto the table, the dishes clattering against each other. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Fenris. No idea. You were not in Ferelden during the Blight. You didn't see the things I did, the things Zevran did. It was chaos, everyone turning on each other as they fought to survive. You didn't see the horror that was Ostagar. If I can stop it from happening again, then I will. And to the Void with the consequences."

"I saw it," Carver said. He was sprawled out in a chair and he straightened when everyone looked at him. "I was at Ostagar. It was… I still have nightmares about it."

Anders was taken aback. He hadn't known that about Carver. All he had been told was that the Hawkes had fled Lothering when the horde had come up from the south, after laying waste to the army at Ostagar. He hadn't known that Carver had been there. Although it did make sense, going to war seemed like something Carver would have done, and gladly.

Carver looked at Fenris. "If there's a chance we can stop something like that from happening again, then it's our duty to go. Don't tell me you would turn your back on that. I thought better of you, Fenris."

"Don't," Fenris said. "Don't try and make me feel guilty for doing what I think is right."

"I can't make you feel anything, Fenris. I know that better than anyone."

Once more the room went silent. This was going somewhere altogether too deep. Anders opened his mouth to intervene, when Merrill did it for him. "If there's a chance that we can find even a fraction of the elvhen's knowledge, we should take it. They understood the world in ways we can never comprehend."

"So says the blood mage," Fenris said in dismissal.

"That's not fair, Fenris. I haven't touched blood magic in years. You know that. Don't use my past bad actions as an excuse to dismiss the things I have to say."

 _Well now_ , Anders thought. _That was unexpected._ He had never heard Merrill be so blunt with Fenris before. He felt horrible for his lover. Everyone was ganging up on him. But what was Anders supposed to do? Fenris was being stubborn for all the wrong reasons. If there was nothing to be found through the Eluvian, then they could always turn right around and leave, going back to Weisshaupt.

"I…" Fenris blinked and looked away. "I apologize then. I just can't help but think this is all a little too neat-the Eluvian at Weisshaupt, me bringing Merrill, and the ability of my markings to use the mirrors. Now our meeting with Cato…" He tapped his fingers against his hip. "Something isn't right. The taint of Flemeth's influence is everywhere. I can't escape the feeling that this is exactly what the witch has wanted all along. If that is so, then why should we do it?"

"Why would you think that she has anything to do with this?" Christopher asked. He stood behind Merrill and had his hands on her shoulders. "That seems like quite a leap."

"Is it? I don't believe so. She appears in Aedan's life. She appears in Hawke's life. Now she has appeared in mine. She is maneuvering us like chess pieces. I don't know what her end game is, but I refuse to aid her in it any longer." He glanced at Aedan. "You say that this Morrigan went through an Eluvian. Where did she go?"

Aedan blinked. "I… I don't know. That's why I requested that the Eluvian Merrill had be sent to me. I was hoping to find out. Where ever Morrigan is, she has made sure she and the child are out of her mother's reach."

"Exactly." Fenris paused in his finger tapping. "There is something we're missing here. All of this is too convenient. If I had not brought Merrill with me, we would not have been able to fix the Eluvian. If I had not asked you about how you had survived the Archdemon, you would not have shown us that you possessed it. She wanted us here, all of us. I can't help but think it has to do with Cato's request."

"But how could she have known that we would have ended up here?" Christopher pointed out. "We're right back to where we started, with you refusing to open the Eluvian to anywhere else besides Weisshaupt."

"I don't know how she could have known that," Fenris snapped. "I don't know. But I can tell you that something is wrong. We should not be even considering doing this."

Anders had watched the exchange with growing trepidation. Fenris was more upset than Anders had seen him in a long time. He knew the cause, even if no one else wanted to see it. Fenris had learned long ago not to trust magic, or those that wielded it. After his time in the Archon's Tower, Anders couldn't blame him. The magisters spent their time vying for power, speaking in riddles and half-truths. Flemeth was no different, and Anders knew that if Fenris thought for even a moment that the witch was using him for her own gain, he would dig in his heels.

Anders was surprised she had talked him into the things she had so far.

But Fenris' patience was at an end. Anders walked over to his lover and slipped his arms around his waist from behind. He leaned down and whispered into the elf's ear, ignoring the way Fenris stiffened at the public display of affection—especially since he was angry.

"I know you hate being here, love. I know that you swore you would never step foot in Tevinter again, but don't think of it as helping the magisters, or Flemeth. We can't know her true intentions, just as we can't know Cato's. What we do know is that if there is even a single chance for us to stop the Blights, we have to take it. I know you. If another Blight breaks out in our lifetime, you will hate yourself for not preventing it from happening when you had the chance. Maybe Aedan is a reckless asshole at times," at this, Aedan scowled, "but he's trying to save lives. You aren't as selfish as you would like people to think you are. You have a good heart. It would destroy you if it turns out that Cato was right."

Fenris turned his head and glared at Anders. The mage gave him a crooked smile. "On the other hand, I really hate this place and want to go home. I just want to make sure you're refusing for the right reasons, like getting back home to Pounce. He's getting on in years, and I bet he misses us."

Fenris eyed Anders, and the mage knew the moment Fenris had given in. His shoulders relaxed and he even leaned back a little into Anders' arms. "Fine, I will take us, _if_ we can even find the place. We were lucky to even get to Minrathous, or did we all forget this already? I also believe that Aedan has forgotten something very important. We have a deadline to return Anders to Weisshaupt."

"What" Anders glanced up at Aedan. "What is he talking about?"

Aedan scratched the back of his head. "I might have… um… sent a missive to your brother informing him you had been taken, and that Tevinter was going to use you to make a power play."

"No…" Anders whispered. "You didn't. Please tell me you didn't do something so idiotic. Please tell me you didn't tell the King of the Anderfels that war might break out. You've been living there for three years. You _know_ what they're like. Did being first Warden make you lose your senses? Whatever happened to not getting involved in politics?"

"Medwin's rational. He won't do anything foolhardy," Aedan said. But whether he was trying to convince Anders or himself, the mage didn't know.

"Oh, yes he would. The Anders have long memories. They hate Tevinter, and you just gave them the excuse they needed. He won't be able to keep this from the barons, even if he wanted to. Having his own brother kidnapped and used against the crown, is a slight that no one in the Anderfels will allow him to let slide. It'll make him appear weak. He'll have no choice but to declare war." Anders couldn't believe this.

"He would have found out anyway," Zevran said. "All of Minrathous knows that you are here and that the games are to start later today. If what you say is true about your brother, then war was inevitable the second you had been taken."

Anders couldn't breathe. He hadn't thought about that. No one had ever been able to take Minrathous. It would be a slaughter on both sides. "We have to stop this," he said in horror.

"We have nine days at the least until the letter I sent reaches your brother." Aedan sat down heavily in his chair. He looked emotionally drained. "Nine days is a long time. We look for this place that Cato thinks we can find. If it turns out we are running out of time, then we leave and return to Weisshaupt. Agreed?"

Nine days might be a long time, but they were going to cut it close. The mage understood all that went unsaid. Anders couldn't return to Weisshaupt alone. Fenris would never allow the mage out of his sight, not so soon after getting him back. Without Fenris, they couldn't search for the lost city, and Cato did not expect them to leave straight for Weisshaupt, with no guarantee they would follow through on their search. If Aedan told Cato they would look for the elvhen, then they would look for them. Aedan's word was his bond.

But it might not be enough for Cato.

Anders blew out a slow breath. "You know, Cousland, you don't understand the concept of saying no to people that need help. You should really do something about that."

Aedan let out a short bark of laughter. "Zev has been telling me that for years."

"You should talk to Hawke about that," Merrill said. "She has the same problem. Whenever someone comes to her for aid, she rushes off. It scared us when she was pregnant."

Carver rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. She had to be practically locked up in her house."

* * *

The moment the door shut to their room, Fenris was on Anders. He pulled at the mage's robes, some of the seams tearing as he slipped it over Anders' head. He didn't want to think about magisters, witches, elves and kings. He didn't want to think about senators, Archons and war. He just wanted to feel Anders' skin under his hands, and taste him on his lips. He wanted the mage's cries to fill his ears as he begged Fenris for more.

Anders was just as needy and yanked at Fenris' armor, pulling on the buckles. One by one, the pieces fell to the thick rug, landing on top of each other with loud crashes. Finally naked, neither said a word as their mouths met. Fenris was already hard, and their arousals were trapped between them as they pressed their bodies together. Fenris tangled his fingers in Anders' hair, bemoaning the fact that he had less of it to grab onto. Still, he was able to hold Ander's head in place as he devoured the mage's lips, his tongue sliding in deep, forcing Anders' mouth open wider and wider.

When the kiss finally ended, they stood staring at each other, their chests rising and falling as they each tried to catch their breath. Fenris didn't have to urge Anders much as he pushed down on his head, using his grip on his hair to steer him to his knees. The mage went eagerly, nuzzling Fenris' hairless crotch with his nose. He flicked his eyes up and ran his tongue over his teeth. His fingers gently caressed up the back of Fenris' legs, tracing the swirling path of his brands. With a sly grin, Anders let the smallest amount of magic escape. The magic traveled over Fenris' body, setting nerve endings alight. He groaned and rolled his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over Ander's lips.

"Take me in your mouth," Fenris growled. He didn't care where they were, or that they were going to be leaving in a few hours to Maker knows where. All that mattered right now was this moment with Anders, and having him in a way that-in his darkest thoughts-he had wondered if he would ever have again.

Anders obediently opened his mouth, but he didn't move, letting Fenris take the lead. The elf teased himself and Anders by slipping the tip of his cock through his welcoming lips, and pulling back out again. Each time he pulled out, Anders swiped his tongue over it, darting into the slit at the tip and collecting the pre-cum that oozed out. Fenris didn't know how long they did this, but it felt so good, this anticipation. He had thought that he would fuck Anders and give them both the quick release they needed after being apart for so long. But now that he was with him, Fenris wanted to draw it out until they were both mindless.

Sliding his hands so they were on either side of Anders' head, Fenris poked his cock deeper into the mage's mouth. He rubbed his cock on the inside of Anders' cheek, and he could feel it where his palm cradled Anders' face. Eventually, his body's needs took over, and he tilted Ander's head back. "You're going to take the whole thing down," Fenris told him, his voice raspy. Anders' heated eyes were all the assent Fenris needed. He slipped his cock further down Anders' throat, until his sac rested against the mage's chin. He could feel Ander's throat rippling down his shaft, and he moaned his appreciation.

"I'm going to fuck that wonderfully talented mouth of yours." Fenris pulled back slightly to give Anders the chance to breathe before pushing all the way back in. "You're going to take it all, aren't you? You're going to take it all and love every second of it, just like the good little cocksucker you are." The degrading words tumbled out of Fenris' mouth as he began to pump his cock in and out between Anders' lips. "Oh fuck, you're so good at this. I can't decide what I love better, your ass or your mouth. I bet your ass is so tight right now. It's missed having a cock reaming it out, hasn't it Anders? Did you fuck yourself with your fingers while you were gone? Did you wish it was my cock inside you? How many fingers did it take Anders? How many did you need to use to satisfy your craving for my cock?"

Anders could do nothing but take it, and moaned around Fenris' shaft. The mage's pupils were dilated wide, and Fenris could see his hips rocking, his cock bobbing uselessly in the air. The way Anders was kneeling, he was pushing his perineum against the heel of one of his feet that was tucked under him.

Fenris' movements sped up as he rutted into Anders' mouth. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, and his shaft became impossibly hard. But still the words came. "I missed you, mage. I missed your fucking smile, and your warm laughter. I missed your smell, and the feel of waking up with you every morning. I missed…" Fenris choked on the words. They had long ago both abandoned any pretense of restraint—emotionally or sexually—when they were together like this. Everything was so much _more_ when they had no barriers, and no judgments. They fed each other's needs when they had no walls, Anders with his need for degradation, and Fenris with his need to break Anders down. Maybe to an outsider, it seemed vicious, but it was so much more than that. Some days they made love. While other days, they took each other down deep, holding nothing back.

When that happened, other things came out.

Fenris felt tears sting the backs of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. "I love you," he breathed, pushing down Anders' throat one last time. His body tensed as he came, the muscles under Anders' hands clenching as he rode out his orgasm. Anders' throat and tongue moved over his shaft, his head bobbing as he milked Fenris dry. The elf's cock slipped free with a lewd pop, and Fenris dropped to his knees, gathering Anders in his arms. He buried his face in Anders' neck and began to sob, clutching his lover to him tightly.

"I was so afraid," Fenris admitted. "I was so afraid of what they might have done to you."

Anders turned his head and kissed the tip of Fenris' ear. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for coming for me. Part of me was afraid you would, but another part of me held onto hope. Remember, we have to have hope."

Embarrassed, Fenris pulled back and swiped at his face with the back of his hand. "I know, I won't ever forget that."

Anders lightly touched the hair tie with the braided hair around Fenris' wrist. "That was nice of Merrill." He said it to give Fenris a distraction, and time to calm himself down. The elf hated it when he cried in front of others. Anders had learned to not to draw attention to it if he could help it. It was enough that Fenris felt comfortable enough to even do it in Anders' presence in the first place.

Fenris cleared his throat a few times and captured Anders' lips in his own. He placed a hand on the mage's chest and tried to push him back to the floor, but Anders held firm. Instead, it was he that pushed Fenris back. He followed, bracing his hands on either side of Fenris' head. He straddled Fenris and rocked his hips back and forth. His cock brushed against Fenris' stomach, painting his skin with pre-cum. Each time he rocked back, the elf's cock rubbed against his entrance.

"Have I told you lately how much I love warden stamina?" Anders asked with a teasing note in his voice. "We could go on for days if we wanted."

Fenris turned his head, and nipped at the sensitive flesh on the inside of Anders' wrist. "Twelve hours is the most we have ever done. We were unable to continue after that, if I recall correctly."

Anders chuckled. "To be honest, it was a blur towards the end." He gasped when Fenris' hands gripped his hips and stilled his movements. The elf held him poised above his cock, and pinned him with his heated gaze. "In my bag there's some elfroot extract. Go get it."

Anders gave him a crooked grin. "Yes, ser."

Rolling his eyes, Fenris swatted Anders on the ass. The mage yelped and then laughed as he scrambled off of him and towards the bed. Fenris lay on the rug and stared up at the ceiling while he waited. What he wouldn't give for all of this to be over. He understood what they were trying to do, but— He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No thinking about what was happening outside of this room.

He opened his eyes when Anders came back and retook his position on top of Fenris. Fenris held out his hand and Anders poured a generous amount of the elfroot onto his fingers. Anders placed the bottle next to Fenris and leaned forward, capturing the elf's lips with his own. Fenris reached around Anders and circled his slick fingers around his asshole. The kiss deepened as Fenris pushed first one finger inside, then another.

Anders moaned into Fenris' mouth. "More," he mumbled.

"More?" Fenris asked. He slipped another inside. "You were unable to answer my question before, Anders. How many did you need?"

Anders panted against Fenris' lips. "All of them," he whispered. "As many as I could get inside me."

Pushing a fourth finger in, Fenris twisted his hand. "All of them? I bet you couldn't get them to go as deep as this."

The mage threw his head and groaned. "Yes," he hissed. "I need this."

"Are you sure?"

Anders whimpered and nodded his head. Fenris gave the mage a feral smile. "Then turn around and present that hungry ass to me."

Anders turned and gave Fenris' cock a quick lick, swiping his tongue up the shaft. Grabbing the bottle of elfroot, Fenris dumped almost the entire content on his hand, and let it drip down to coat his wrist. He pressed two fingers against Anders' entrance, building back up to where they had been before. Anders rocked back into the invading digits, fucking himself on Fenris' fingers.

"More," Anders demanded again, becoming mindless. Fenris shuddered in pleasure as he watched three and then four fingers disappear inside Anders. "Suck me again," Fenris demanded. Anders immediately obeyed, taking the elf's cock down to the root. Fenris' breath came out in harsh pants as he folded his fingers together in a point and tucked his thumb tightly against his palm. Carefully, and oh so slowly, he pushed his fingers into Anders past the first knuckles, then the second.

Anders cried out, ripping his mouth free from the cock in front of him. 'Do it," he begged. "I need more."

Fenris pushed his fingers in deeper, until the tip of his thumb joined the rest. He stopped, giving Anders time to grow accustomed to being so full. Carefully, he twisted his hand, rotating it and forcing Anders to feel every inch that was inside him already.

"Oh, shit," Anders muttered. "Oh, shit." His hand worked Fenris' cock, and the elf moaned.

Gently at first, Fenris pulled his fingers in and out of Anders' ass. Each time he pushed back in, he went a little bit deeper. Each time he went deeper, Anders become more incoherent. His hand on Fenris' cock began frantic and off rhythm.

"Breathe, Anders," Fenris warned. "Here comes the hardest part. I know you can take. You want it, don't you?"

"Maker, yes," Anders panted.

The area around the third row of knuckles opened up Anders almost impossibly wide. The mage was gulping in great breaths of air, his body frozen. Once Fenris had pushed past the ring of Anders' asshole, his body seemed to swallow his hand whole. He slipped his hand in deeper, until finally, he was inside the mage up to his wrist.

Anders dropped his head down to rest against Fenris' thigh. "Oh, Maker. Oh, shit. That's intense. Oh, fuck." He didn't begin screaming in pleasure until Fenris rotated his hand. Anders' hand moved once more over Fenris' cock, his fingers a tight ring around the elf's shaft. He turned his head and mouthed at Fenris' balls. "I'm going to come. Maker, I'm going to come."

"Me too," Fenris moaned. Seeing what he was doing to Anders, the mage's ass gaping wide and accepting everything Fenris was doing it… Maker, it was a heady sight. He rotated his hand again, rubbing against that spot deep inside Anders in a constant motion.

Anders cried out, and his ass clenched around Fenris' hand as he came. Cum jetted out of his cock, splattering over Fenris' stomach as the mage writhed. Gently, Fenris pulled his hand free, watching as his asshole twitched now that it was empty. Fenris rose up and placed a kiss to it, darting his tongue inside and tasting the elfroot that coated it.

He smacked Anders on the ass and pushed him over to the side, slipping out from under him. Anders lay boneless and splayed out on the rug as Fenris knelt next to him. Anders looked up at Fenris through half lidded eyes as the elf rubbed his cock over the mage's lips and his cheeks. The stubble that lined his jaw abraded the underside of Fenris' cock, and it twitched in anticipation. Fenris gripped his cock as Anders watched and moved his still slick hand up and down the shaft, his thumb rubbing over the tip on every upstroke.

He panted harshly through his nose, already close to climax. "You should have seen yourself," Fenris growled. "Your greedy ass took my whole hand. You still want my cock after that?" Fenris asked. "You still want it after you had something so large inside you?"

"I want it," Anders whispered. "I want it in any way you want to give it to me."

"How about my cum?"

"Yes," Anders hissed. "I want it. Give it to me."

"Take it," Fenris demanded. "Take it, you—" The rest of his sentence was cut off with a strangled shout. His cum poured out over his hand, shooting to land on Anders' face. The elf fell forward, bracing his free hand on the floor as he jiggled his cock over Anders' lips, wringing every last drop out.

Fenris moved and crushed their lips together, pushing his semen into Anders' mouth. His heart hammering in his chest, Fenris pulled back far enough to look into Anders' eyes. "I'm never going to let anyone take you from me again. Remember, not until you tell me that you don't want me anymore. Not until you tell me that you no longer love me."

"Never," Anders said harshly. "That will never happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie. That was a first for me, writing a fisting scene. I also didn't have that planned out until they got to it, and just rolled with it. They keep escalating on me with the sex scenes. Gah!


	13. Chapter 13

The door the wardens, Zevran and Carver were led through was flanked by several templars. They snapped to attention as Cato drew towards them. Anders shuddered. The Argent Spire was like the rest of Tevinter—it felt wrong. Logically, Anders knew that Cato was the Divine, and therefore, commanded respect from the templars. But he was also a mage, just like all of the powerful in Tevinter. Where it should have been a wet dream for Anders to see it, he had to wonder what the templars would do if Cato lost control.

The templars in Tevinter had the same charge as they did in the rest of Thedas. They were there to make sure that mages stayed in the lines of what was acceptable. Anders had already seen firsthand that it meant little in the grand scheme of things. Maybe more politically powerful magisters could get away with anything, but what happened to the ones that had no such protection? It hadn't stopped Danarius from doing what he had done to Fenris, and it hadn't seemed to stop the Archon from wanting to continue with Danarius' plans.

This was what Fenris had always been afraid of, this lack of accountability.

It showed a certain trust on Fenris' part that he no longer argued with Anders when the mage talked about his work with Wynne. In a convoluted way, coming to Minrathous just might help the mages in the rest of Thedas. What Anders had seen here, had given him an understanding of just why mages were feared. Cato was right when he said that for the other countries of Thedas, Tevinter would always represent everything that was wrong with mages. Anders had knowledge now to help him combat that fear.

The room they entered was small and contained a single item. The Eluvian that Cato possessed looked different from the one Merrill had. It sat on a raised dais, with three steps leading up to it. While the mirror itself was the same, its frame consisted of several dragons carved from black stone, coiling around the edge, their mouths open and snapping at each other. All except for one, who had no mouth at all.

The door shut behind them on silent hinges, and Anders didn't like the feeling of foreboding that crawled up his spine. All four corners of the room were lit with magical sconces that flared to life as soon as they entered. Maker, if there was one thing Anders was going to miss about Tevinter, it would have to be the negligent use of helpful magic that permeated Tevinter daily life. Imagine never having to light a fire or worry if you were wasting candles again? Of course, he didn't know how they were made. For all he knew it required the blood of virgins and drowning a sack of kittens.

"It's been here for centuries," Cato said. "There is so much lost history in the spire, things locked away and forgotten. I made it my mission when I became Divine to uncover as much of it as I could."

"Dangerous," Anders muttered.

Cato's teeth flashed in a smile. "Just so. After Danarius abused my hospitality, I closed off the spire to others. I used to think that knowledge was nothing if not shared. Now I no longer believe so."

Fenris walked up the stairs. He stopped in front of the Eluvian, and glanced back at Aedan. "Are you certain of this? As His grace just said, there are some things best not known."

"Never that." Cato shook his head. "Maybe not shared, but it is always better to know."

"And what has your knowledge gained you?" Fenris asked quietly. "Stopping the Blights will not change how Thedas views Tevinter. It is a country filled with blood mages and slaves. The Imperium only will ever seek to control and conquer. You can't change that, no matter what we find. The magisters are cursed. It is not the Maker's doing, but your own. The demons, the blood rituals, the debauchery, the extravagance, these are only a small portion of what is wrong. Every Archon in history that has ever tried to change the way things are done, has been put quickly in his place with a knife in his back. What makes you think you are different? Because you are the Divine? That will not save you."

Cato looked pained when he spoke. "Your bitterness and anger saddens me. It is not without cause, though. I do what I can with what time the Maker has allowed me to have. Change can happen in small ways, a ripple in the pond."

"But the pond is still a pond when the ripple has run its course."

The smile returned to Cato's face, but his eyes remained saddened. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have met you in another time and place. The conversations we could have had."

Fenris turned back to the mirror, but Anders could see that the tips of his ears were red with embarrassment. "Why do people keep saying that to me?"

"Because you're much more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, love," Anders replied softly.

Fenris hunched his shoulders, and Anders smiled to see that the blush had traveled down to the back of the elf's neck. "What am I supposed to be looking for," Fenris said, firmly changing the subject.

"I'm not sure," Cato admitted. "The writings on Arlathan are sparse. Most are old tales and second hand accounts. What I do know, was that the city was sunk into the earth, and it stood where the Arlathan forest is today."

"Not exactly hidden is it?" Carver said. "If it's under where the forest of the same name is, then why not just dig for it?" Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. "What? I can't be the only thinking it."

"You're not," Aedan said slowly. He turned his eyes on Cato. "He has a point. Why do you need us? You would be better off asking the dwarves to look for you. I know Tevinter still retains good standing with them, even if no one else does."

Cato clasped his hands behind his back. "Time is one reason. No one knows exactly how deep the city is. It could take decades to find it if we dug from the top. I did once consider using the Deep Roads, but the only ones that know it as well—if not better—than the dwarves are the Grey Wardens. You are the first wardens I have ever met. Also, there is the chance that—"

Shouting resounded in the hall and everyone froze. Anders, Merrill and Christopher drew their staffs from their backs, while the others unsheathed their blades. The door was thrown open, and Gaius and Feynriel rushed inside.

Gaius' hands were pressed to his abdomen, and Anders could see blood seeping through his fingers, staining his robes "Your Grace," he panted. "All is lost, we are done for." He gasped and bent double in pain. Feynriel hurried over to him and Gaius waved him off.

"What's happened?" Cato asked. He gently pulled Gaius' hands away. Anders could see from where he was standing, that the magister had been stabbed, and not in a good place. It was a stomach wound, and Gaius would have a long, and painful death if it wasn't treated. Anders' fingers twitched on his staff.

"Therion… He canceled the games without any notice or reason given. The people rioted in the street. Not many, but enough to give him the distraction he needed." He tried to straighten, but only caused more blood to gush out. "His guards came through my house and many others, slaughtering… my family is dead, everyone… We barely made it out." He was able to straighten this time. "He is coming here next, with not only his men, but soldiers from his most loyal houses. Over half the senate is involved in this, you aren't safe here." Zevran was translating rapidly for Merrill, Aedan and Carver.

"He would dare?" Cato said. He looked on Gaius with astonishment. "How did you not know of this?" He directed his question towards Feynriel.

"I didn't…" Feynriel stammered. "I… I can only be in one dream at a time, and I was told to search the warden's dreams. I swear I did not know. I would never betray what we're trying to do. You know how important this is to me."

"Ask him what he's talking about," Aedan told Zevran.

Feynriel glanced at Aedan. "I speak your language. I… I'm the one that told His Grace about the Eluvian. When I dream, I am always alone unless I pull others in with me. Sometimes… Sometimes I'm not. I can hear whispers that aren't demons, speaking in a language that I don't understand. But one time," he swallowed heavily, "something came to me. She told me about the mirrors and that I needed to tell His Grace, that he would know what I was talking about. She also told me that there would be a day, when I was going to need to help someone that had helped me, and that I should do it. My master doesn't now, only His Grace does."

Anders thought that it was lucky that Gaius did not understand them. If what Feynriel was saying was true, then he had gone behind his master's back.

"What did she look like," Fenris hissed.

All of them knew what Feynriel was going to say before even he opened his mouth. "She was tall, with white hair twisted like a dragon's or a qunari's horns. She had golden eyes and a laugh that was—"

"Like the world was a joke and she was the only one in on it," Aedan finished.

"Yes!" Feynriel's eyes widened. "Do you know who she is? She wasn't human, but she wasn't a demon either. I told His Grace as instructed."

"You did well, Feynriel," Cato said in Arcanum. "I only wish that everything wasn't falling apart."

Gaius laughed, long and bitter. "Falling apart? It is madness! We need not worry about the Anderfels anymore, when we tear each other apart for them." He turned his gaze on the Eluvian and Fenris, noting them for the first time. "What… what is this?"

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Cato said. "I lied to you. I knew you would try to stop me if you found out what I was doing."

Gaius leaned against the wall and slid slowly down it. "What does it matter anymore? We are all dead. Therion knows about our schemes to overthrow him." He gestured to the Eluvian, his hand slick with blood. "Even if we survive, we have no place to go. There is nowhere in Tevinter that will shelter us."

"That's not true," Aedan said. He nodded at the Eluvian. "The Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt would."

Anders sucked in a breath. Oh, Maker… What was Aedan doing? The man was a slaver. He bought and sold elves like Fenris every day without thought. And besides, Fenris would never—

"No." Fenris crossed his arms, a mean feat considering he had to hold his sword in one hand to do it. "I refuse to aid this magister-this slaver. Let him rot with the rest of them, it is no more than what he deserves." Just to drive his point home, Fenris said it again—in Arcanum.

"I did what I had to do, elf, to make sure my house survived," Gaius rasped.

"But you failed in that, didn't you. How does it feel to be so helpless? It is sobering, is it not? Imagine feeling like this every day, every hour, every second of your life. That is what you have consigned thousands to."

"We can't leave them here to die," Christopher said in astonishment. "If you could forgive me, then you should be able to forgive them. No one deserves what is going to happen to them."

Fenris snorted in disgust. "We would be letting magisters loose in Weisshaupt."

"We would also have the Black Divine. I don't think the Divine will like that too much. In fact, I am pretty sure that if it gets out that the wardens helped him, it would mean trouble with Orlais." Carver said. When everyone turned to him he shrugged again. "What? Why is when I say something that makes sense, you all always look at me like I've sprouted a second head? Fenris has a point. Nothing good will come of this. We should be leaving."

Aedan looked from one person to another, finally resting his eyes on Cato. "Anders can heal him, but we cannot take you with us. Can you get out of the spire?" When Cato nodded, Aedan continued on. "If you need to, you may come to Weisshaupt. Do not give your name. The wardens cannot afford an Exalted March."

"I understand. Thank you."

At Aedan's signal, Anders knelt down next to Gaius. He pried the man's hand away and replaced them with his own. As magic flowed through the magister, Anders whispered in his ear. "I thought you had control of most of the guards in Minrathous. Why did they turn on you?"

Gaius' lip curled. "Gold. Why else? In another life, I might almost admire Therion for his nerve. But I suspect it was not his idea. Lucretia is cunning and she has his balls in a vice. One third of the senate slaughtered… I never thought it would go this far."

After Anders repaired the damage to his stomach, he pulled his magic back, knitting together muscle and flesh. "I don't like you Gaius. You trade in lives, and I don't just mean slavery. You would have made a formidable Archon. I can't say I'm sorry to see that your plan failed."

"Really? That does not surprise me. Cato and I had such grand plans. We were going to shape Tevinter into a new image. I don't care about selling slaves. It was only a means to an end."

"See? That's why you're frightening. The Chantry of Orlais only sees magisters that don't care about human lives. You have no idea of what you have done to the rest of the mages of Thedas. What horror we go through because magisters can't control their impulses. We pay for your mistakes. Not you. But I just wanted to thank you. I know now why mages are feared. I never understood it until recently, not fully."

When he was finished, Anders made to move away, but Gaius grabbed him by the arm and held him still. "You've saved my life, so let me give you a piece of advice. In many of the royal houses in Thedas, there is a magister, sent there to wheedle their way into the good graces of the ruling families. I was never able to find out when they were to act, but it will be soon. Thedas was to be thrown into chaos, and Tevinter was to be there to pick up the pieces."

"We already know. We killed one in Starkhaven years ago. Some of you blood mages are a little obvious, what with the body parts strewn about."

Gaius gave a weak chuckle. "That was only the vanguard. Therion learned from his mistakes. These will not be easily found out. They are everywhere. They are in several of the principalities of the Free Marches. One is with the Ferelden King. Another is with the White Divine. There is even one in Neverra, with the Grand Enchanter."

Anders reared back in horror. "No…" he got to his feet and stumbled back from Gaius.

The magister looked at him with pity. "You might think I'm a monster, but I would never be insane enough to enact such a plan. Despite my best efforts, dark days are coming."

"Anders?" Merrill walked over to him and touched his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Behind him, Anders could hear Cato, Feynriel and Gaius hurry from the room, without so much as a farewell. "I…" Maker, this was a nightmare.

"Later," Aedan said. "We have to go."

"I still don't know what I'm looking for," Fenris called. "Since you decided to stop and help the magisters, Cato was never able to finish telling me. We should return to Weisshaupt. If you insist on this foolhardy plan, we can do it from there."

"Agreed." Aedan nodded.

Without needing more prompting, Anders watched Fenris' brands flare to life. The Eluvian immediately responded in kind. "Maker…" Anders whispered in awe. Bathed in a blue glow, Fenris seemed unreal, and out of Anders' reach. For a moment, the mage became frightened. He wanted to shout at Fenris and tell him to stop. But when the image of a room solidified in the mirror, the words stuck in his throat. One by one, the wardens ran through the mirror, leaving Fenris for last so he could close the portal.

Just like that, Anders was freed from Tevinter.

But with Gaius' pronouncement ringing in his ears, he knew that it wasn't true—not completely.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today. I felt they needed to be posted together.

_One week ago, Denerim, the royal palace_

"Your majesty! You need to run. You—" The guards words were cut off with a gurgle as the pride demon crushed his chest. It flung the body away, where it landed with a crash against the wall.

There were a ring of guards around Alistair, and he tried to push through them. "Let me pass! I'm not an invalid." They stood in the hallway that led to the royal apartments. The pride demon loomed at one end. Almost too big for the hallway, the plaster cracked above its head as it moved forward.

"You aren't armored, your Majesty," one guard said. "We can't allow it."

"I was sleeping!" Alistair cried in frustration. "At least I bothered to put on some leggings. Now give me a sword and move out of my way, or I'll send you to somewhere awful, like Antiva or something."

Even though he couldn't see him behind the pride demon, Alistair could hear Jevon laughing. Maker, he had trusted Jevon. The man had been in the palace for over a year now. How blind Alistair had been. Reflecting on it now, he should have known something was wrong. Jevon had shown himself at the palace gates and begged for work. Alistair had been desperate and hired him. It had been as simple as that. But what was he supposed to have done? His nieces and nephews had driven off one tutor after another. Word had spread throughout Denerim about the royal heir and his siblings. No one had wanted anything to do with them. It didn't matter how much Alistair was offering to pay.

Their mother-his esteemed sister-had taken herself off to Orlais years ago. Alistair had never been so glad to see the back of someone. She had become insufferable and demanding. Her relationship to Alistair had ensured that no one would gainsay her. It had been Teagan's idea to send her off to Orlais with a generous allowance. Alistair had been a bit dismayed at how easily she had agreed to abandon her children. But he hadn't been surprised. Aedan had been right when he's said that everyone was just out for themselves. Alistair knew that, but her ready agreement still stung. They had been more his than hers by then. It had been strange at first, but he had muddled through it somehow.

"After I'm through with you, I'll kill Liam next," Jevon cried. "Ferelden will fall to pieces as they scramble to find someone to take over the throne until his brother comes of age."

That was it. Alistair grabbed a sword from one of his guards. The man was so surpised, he was able to snatch it right out of his hand. He pushed against the wall of plate armor. Liam was his oldest nephew and heir. He had just turned nineteen, and was thankfully free of his mother's influence. Alistair was proud of the boy, and in a way, saw him as the son he would never have. He was bright, and willing to listen. He had learned from the mistakes Alistair had made over the years. How Goldanna had ever birthed such a wonderful boy, Alistair would never know.

"You blood mages are all alike," Alistair said as he finally got the guards to part. Shirtless and barefoot, he stood in front of them, his hand clenched tightly on his borrowed sword. "You talk, talk, talk, but you never say anything of interest. Just the same old doom and gloom." He had to keep Jevon distracted long enough to do what he needed.

It had been years since Alistair had been in any kind of fight. He didn't count the sparing matches he had with his guards. He suspected they've been letting him win for years. Still, people tended to forget he had been trained as a templar. He had spent a good portion of his life learning to do one thing.

Hunt mages.

"Tevinter will rise," Jevon intoned. "It's coming, and you can do nothing to stop it!"

 _That's right,_ Alistair thought. _Keep talking._ He called on his long unused templar skills. It was taking him longer than it used to. The demon in front of him roared and Alistair shifted his feet to steady himself. He glanced over his shoulder to the guards. "Attack on my signal."

"What's the signal, your majesty?" one asked.

The king looked back at the demon. "You'll know it." He called out to Jevon. "All for Ferelden? We were a backwater outpost for the Imperium centuries ago. I would have thought they would be more interested in Nevarra, or the Anderfels. Maybe even Orlais itself." He could feel the power building inside him. Just a little longer. Just a bit more…

"We will have them as well. I'm not the only one. Soon, the whole of Thedas will know the might of Tevinter. Kill them!" he screamed to the demon.

Out of time.

The smite blasted forth from Alistair, slamming into the demon and Jevon. The demon staggered backwards, and Jevon cried out in pain as the mage crashed to the floor. Alistair gave a great cry and rushed forward, his guards with him every step of the way.

* * *

_Two days ago, Val Royeaux, the Grand Cathedral_

"Does she say anything else?" the Divine Justinia V asked. "How sure is Lizette that what she is saying is true?"

Leliana shook her head, her bright red hair falling over her face. "No. She only says that we must be more vigilant with Tevinter. Something is happening there, but she knows not what."

The two women stood on a balcony overlooking the city. Below them, the gardens of the Great Cathedral were in bloom. Justinia smiled to herself as she watched two children race across the lush grass, chasing after a ball. "Did we make a mistake in allowing the wardens to keep the Key?" she asked softly. "If there was anyone that would not use him for their own gain, it would be them."

"Killing him was out of the question," Leliana assured her. "Aedan and he are friends. If it was found out that the Chantry had a hand in his death… Well, Aedan is very protective of those he cares about."

Justinia raised a pale eyebrow at her. "You would know. I trust your wisdom in this. I also don't wish to take his life. Not for something he had no control over. He has yet to abuse the power he's been given. Why should he pay the ultimate price for that?"

"Lizette also mentioned that a templar was sent with him—Carver Hawke."

"Well now," Justinia mused. "That is interesting. The witch saved his life once, and that of his family. What is she up to?"

Leliana sighed. "I don't think she had a hand in his involvement, but she still does not mean well. Her help does not come for free. She wants something. We haven't yet been able to figure out the pattern in her activities over the past decade, but I feel it's converging."

"I feel it as well. You can practically taste in the air, a calm before the storm. My predecessors were always content to ignore her-to our detriment, I'm afraid. If only we could find her daughter, maybe she would know what her mother is planning. I thought when she saved the Hawkes that she was using them to destroy the Circles, but that didn't happen, did it? Instead, Viscount Hawke is the first mage to ever hold any sort of political power outside of Tevinter. Why she wished this…" She sighed in frustration. "Maybe we were wrong to keep all of this to ourselves."

"Maybe so, but we can't turn back down." Leliana touched Justinia' cheek. She leaned forward and lightly brushed the other woman's lips with her own. "You are a good soul, and I am proud to stand with you."

"Thank you," Justinia whispered. "At times, I feel like I'm teetering on the brink of ruin. The Knight-Vigilant shouts at me from the White Spire daily. He wants me to put an official stop to Circle reform. I dread reading one of his many missives he sends me."

Leliana laughed softly. "I cannot see you hiding from pieces of parchment. Let him bluster. As long as you are silent, change can happen. Wynne and her warden friend aren't proposing we dissolve the Circles."

Justinia gave her a wry smile. "You and I know that, but he doesn't see it that way. I think he is more afraid of what this will mean for his position if they're successful." She turned from the balcony and walked into the cathedral. "But enough of that. Tell me, has out little spy spoken yet? Or does she still babble on about Tevinter might?"

Following her on silent feet, Leliana shook her head. "She has spoken, but only little. We were lucky that we caught her in time, yes?"

"I did not appreciate waking up with a knife to my throat. The woman was bold, I'll give her that." They weaved their way through large corridors lined with paintings of past Divines and their accomplishments.

"I didn't appreciate waking up to see it."

"If you hadn't been there…" Justinia stopped and turned to face the other woman.

"Don't think on it." Leliana pressed her fingers against Justinia's lips. "She won't be able to try again. I have names now, a few places. Letters were sent out this morning to the Seekers. They will know to position themselves next to those ruling families that are in danger."

"I can only hope they arrive in time. I think…" She closed her eyes and looked away. "I must send you away. Go to your friend Aedan. I have stood silent for too long." She opened her eyes. "I will miss you. With Cassandra in Kirkwall, I will be able to trust no one."

"Trust your heart," Leliana whispered. "I have never known it to let you down before."

"If only I had your faith in me."

"And the Tevinter spy?" Leliana asked.

"Kill her. I may have mercy in me when it comes to others, but not to a blood mage that wishes me and mine harmed."

* * *

_Two weeks ago, Kirkwall, The Viscount's Keep_

Cullen pinned Marian's arms to her sides, forcing her to release the dagger. "No," he whispered fiercely. "It's not worth it, Marian."

She dropped her head down, her black hair falling over her eyes. "He's gone, Cullen. They took my baby." She let out a sob, her body heaving in anguish. "Malcolm is worth it. We have to find him. We have to…" She broke off on another cry.

Marian had done what she always did after she woke up in the morning-she went to see Malcolm in his room. He was almost four now, and had his mother's tendency to sleep in. She liked to have her face be the first one he saw when he opened his eyes. Her family had been close when she was growing up. Her mother had been there almost every day of her young life. Even though she knew the practicality of having a nurse, she still tended to Malcolm every chance she got.

Since she was viscount, those chances were few.

So she woke him every morning and the two went down to eat breakfast together. No matter what was happening in her day, Marian made sure that they ate every meal together. Cullen was usually gone by then, but he was always back in time for supper, and he took one day a week off from his duties as Knight-Commander to spend the day with Malcolm and Marian.

It wasn't ideal, but the three of them made it work.

This morning, Malcolm hadn't been in his bed.

A note was instead.

His nurse-the woman that Marian had hired personally two years ago-had snatched her child in the night. The note was very explicit on who had taken him and why. Tevinter would rise, and if Marian wanted to see her son again, she wouldn't interfere.

Fuck that. Marian Hawke had killed the blighted Arishok. If they thought she would stand by meekly while Tevinter took not only her son, but Kirkwall as well, then they thought wrong. It would've been better to kill her.

"Malcolm's worth it," she cried. "I don't care what kind of demon can help me get my son back, I will have him again."

"Marian," Cullen whispered fiercely. "The templars and the guards have been dispatched. You've alerted your friends. I can't let you destroy yourself. I love you too much for that."

Marian's body went limp in his arms and she turned, clutching at his breastplate. "They took our baby, Cullen. I'll tear Tevinter apart for this."

As he looked in her angry, tear filled eyes, Cullen gave her a curt nod. "And I'll help you."

* * *

_Present day, Vigil's Keep_

Nate stood at the front gates waiting for his guests. He had his full warden armor on, the dark leather freshly oiled. His tabard was crisp and clean, and he had made sure that everyone else in the keep followed suit.

It was not often the king visited.

Nate had made sure that on the rare times King Alistair had come to the Vigil that he stayed out of sight. Aedan might not hold any animosity towards him for his father's part in what had happened during the Blight, but that didn't mean the king didn't. Nate had thought it prudent to not test his ire, despite Aedan's assurances to the contrary.

He'd had a small fear that being named Warden-Commander of Ferelden might cause problems with the crown, but Denerim had remained silent.

_Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this. It's been years now since the Blight._

As they saw riders approach, Nate tried to calm his nerves. Sigrun glanced up at him. "What do you think he wants?"

"I don't know, but it can't be good," Nate replied honestly. "Kings don't just come somewhere with barely any notice for good news."

Oghren snorted. "Probably just misses the good old days and wants to reminisce. Must be boring to be king."

"I don't think that's it," Nate muttered.

The horses were racing towards the gates now. Nate's anxiety shot up a notch. They were rushing towards the keep as if they were being chased by the horde. The horses skidded to a halt, and their riders dismounted. Nate's eyebrows shot up at the lack of guards that were with Alistair-only four men guarded the king.

Alistair was in golden plate, something that Nate knew had once been his father's. Without any preamble, the king strode towards the three wardens.

Nate opened his mouth to greet him, but Alistair cut him off. "What in the Void are you wardens doing? I had a blood mage try to kill me for 'Tevinter glory' a few days ago, and he kept shouting that the Grey Wardens would be next and they would 'pay for harboring the Key'."

"This oughta be good," Oghren chuckled.


	15. Chapter 15

No one was just one thing or another. People were made up of different facets, and only a lucky few ever got to see each and every one in a single person. To do that took time, and a willingness to open up one's self to another. In return, one had to pay attention to see the little idiosyncrasies that made up the whole.

It was the give and take of a relationship, and without it a relationship could flounder.

Fenris had spent his whole life closed off—or what he could remember of it. Opening yourself up only led to heartache, disappointment, and pain. He had put up barriers in order to survive Tevinter, in order to survive Danarius. He had kept his head down and his opinions to himself, even as his anger and bitterness grew. He had kept the pain close to where his heart had been, nursing the rage until it had grown and consumed him—he had welcomed it.

The three years he had spent between Tevinter and Kirkwall had been one lesson after another. He had learned how to survive in the rest of Thedas, gaining skills that had never been taught to him. As a slave he had little to no concept of money, or how to get what he wanted. More than once his ignorance had led to betrayal, and those that had crossed him had learned to their detriment never to do it again.

Slowly, he had gained a small reputation in the cities he had roamed. Despite his best efforts, people began to know of him, and the fighting skills that could be bought. He had no other way to earn the coin he had needed to eat. In Antiva, there had been a need for hired swords, people with skill that were cheaper than the Crows. He escorted caravans of goods for merchant princes, and guarded lords and ladies from their own machinations. He had learned a lot in his time in Antiva, but he had forgotten one very important rule—to lie low, because Tevinter was always watching.

He had made a good amount of coin by the time he'd had to leave Antiva, enough to flee the country, one step ahead of the relentless slavers. It had been as he was crossing the border between Antiva and the Free Marches-with nothing more than the clothes on his back, and a pouch full of sovereigns-that it had occurred to him that he couldn't spend his whole life like this, always wondering when the slavers would come next. He needed a place to bunker down, some place where he could fortify himself and wait for Danarius to come to him.

Kirkwall had met those needs.

With the refugees from Ferelden streaming in, Fenris had known he could slip inside and become lost in the masses. There were only a few entrances into the city. Tevinter had built Kirkwall well, surrounding it with high walls. Fenris would use what little coin he had left, to pay people to watch and report back to him. He had thought if he was smart enough, he just might lure Danarius to him, and that's when he would strike.

It had been a plan full of holes and the potential for failure, but Fenris' time away from Tevinter had given him a determination to never go back, and a need to make Danarius pay for what he had done to him. For many years he would wake up with a scream dying on his lips, his body remembering the pain that had taken his memories away from him. Or it would be the touch of Danarius' hands on his body, or the laughter on Hadriana's lips as Danarius used his markings against him, making sure Fenris was primed and ready to fuck someone for his amusement.

In a way, those nightmares had been worse than the ones of the ritual that had given him his brands.

He had never even considered going to Nevarra. It was the home of the Circle of the Magi, and Fenris had wanted nothing to do with it. Going to a country where mages held power, no matter how small had been too dangerous. Not for Fenris, but for the mages.

Whenever he had seen someone using magic during his time in Antiva, his blood had grown cold. The way their magic pulled on his brands, had always invariably triggered something in him. Why couldn't the templars see that allowing their mages to roam free was one concession too many? The templars in Tevinter had done that at one point, allowing their mages little liberties that eventually led to the magisters rising again. All around him he had seen how Thedas teetered on the brink of chaos.

But in Kirkwall, the Circle there had a reputation. The Knight-Commander was known for being strict, almost confining the mages under her charge. The templars in Kirkwall were ever vigilant, and apostates knew better than to linger in the city long.

Danarius would not find it easy to be a blood mage, nor a slaver in Kirkwall.

Kirkwall was to be his last stand, a place where he would embrace his fate. And it had been _his_ fate, no one else's. Just as it was his body, his heart, and his mind. It had been terrifying at first when he had escaped Tevinter. Even small things like the ability to eat whenever he was hungry had once been denied him. But even though the end of the lesson had been harsh, his time with the Fog Warriors had blunted some of that uncertainty. He'd had a taste of freedom once before.

He wasn't going to give it up again.

Either Danarius would have met his death in Kirkwall, or Fenris would. He would rather have died than be taken back to that nothing life, to that hollow existence. But even as he had thought that, he had known himself for a liar. Death would only mean that Danarius had won. Fenris wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of ripping the lyrium from the elf's corpse. His days and nights on the way to Kirkwall, had been filled with fantasies of what he would do to Danarius when he finally came. He had been consumed with thoughts of revenge, of how he would make his former master suffer for the pain he had caused.

But the nightmares had never stopped.

By the time he had reached Kirkwall, Fenris had found that drinking had been the only thing to give him any peace. He would drink until the memories and the thoughts ceased. He would drink until he could finally close his eyes without the worry of what new nightmare his mind would conjure next.

That had been a Void all its own. Sometimes, at his most inebriated, he would catch tantalizing glimpses of a life long gone. He would never remember any of it the next day, but they had been there, tormenting him with thoughts of what he'd had once had if only he could recall it.

Magic had stripped everything from his life. It corrupted those deemed incorruptible. It caused war. It caused Blights. It stole and it maimed. The true Blight were the mages of Thedas—not the darkspawn. If the Chantry in Orlais had any notion of what they stood on the brink of, then they would do Thedas a favor and slaughter every mage in existence, or ever would be.

Even the children, for they would one day grow up to bring terror.

But Fenris had miscalculated—badly. By the time he had made it to Kirkwall, and slipped into the city, he had found Kirkwall in turmoil. The Gallows had been everything he had heard it was, but it had also been filled to bursting. Mages from Starkhaven and Ferelden, along with those already in the Gallows, had taken up the small resources the templars had. No templars had roamed the streets like Fenris had been led to believe—not any longer. They had begun to rely on citizens of Kirkwall informing on others in order to bring apostates in.

When Fenris had realized this, it had been too late. Danarius had somehow gotten to Kirkwall ahead of him. Fenris hadn't known how he had been found out, but his former master had been there all the same. Leaving had been out of the question. He wouldn't get another chance like that again. So when word had reached him that not only had Danarius' location been discovered, but that he had brought something with him, Fenris had known immediately it had been a trap. At the time, he had thought that either Danarius had been foolish in making himself so visible, or that he had been insulting Fenris' intelligence with so obvious a ruse.

But the box had been rumored to contain papers that outlined Fenris' past-names, dates, bills of sale. The craving to know who he had been, and what he'd once had had torn him up inside. Danarius might not have been so foolish as to bring something like that with him, but Fenris hadn't been able to not take the chance that it might be true.

So he had done the only sensible thing he could have done at the time. He had gone through an intermediary to hire someone to look for the box for him, and bring its contents to him. It had taken up the rest of his coin, but as he had watched the battle in the Alienage from the shadows, he had known it had been worth it.

And when he had met those that Anso had hired for him, his life had changed forever.

* * *

Anders watched the game that Fenris and Zevran were playing. His head tilted to the side as he tried to predict what move one of the elves would make next. The two of them were moving their pieces across the checkered board rapidly, each piece striking its surface in rhythmic clacks. Occasionally one of them would pause, his hand hovering over a piece before making a move. Anders couldn't follow it, no matter how hard he tried. The two elves were playing a silent game of skill that was out of Anders' sphere. He'd tried a few times in the past to play with them, but only got soundly beaten for his trouble. Puissance was an Orlesian game, pitting two players against each other. Each had carved game pieces that represented the Chantry and the Circle. The point of the game was to collect as many of your opponents pieces as possible, while defending either your Grand Enchanter, or your Divine—depending on if you were playing with the Circle or Chantry pieces. Whoever captured their opponent's Grand Enchanter or Divine first, won.

It sounded simple, but there was a lot of strategy involved, some of which took thinking about what you were going to do several moves in advance, and predicting what your opponent was doing.

Fenris and Zevran used to play all the time, before Zevran had decided to stay in Weisshaupt, unable to leave Aedan. Anders couldn't think that far enough ahead to play on their level, so he contented himself with watching.

They had been at Weisshaupt for three days now. Once they had gone through the Eluvian and made it back, Fenris had flatly refused to take them anywhere else until Anders could be seen to, and he had recovered. He and Aedan had had their inevitable fight, but when Fenris had pointed out that Anders was at his limit and that Aedan was being foolish, the First Warden had backed down.

Fenris was as ruthless with his words as he was with Puissance.

Zevran leaned back in his chair. "Ah, another draw. We seem to be doing this a lot today, no?"

"We're both out of practice," Fenris agreed. "This is the first time I have been able to really play in years. I… I missed this." He glanced down at the board, and studiously avoided Zevran's eyes as he rearranged his pieces back to their starting position.

Zevran wink at Anders while Fenris wasn't looking, and the mage grinned back at him. Although it was still hard for him, and more than likely always would be, Fenris was becoming a little more verbally honest with his feelings.

It was strange for Anders to think back on how the two of them were while they had been living in Kirkwall. Experiences in life shaped a person. The ability to bend like a slender tree in the wind without breaking was a hard one to learn, but both he and Fenris had learned it well.

Or a little bit, at least.

Fenris would always be surly, and quick to draw blood with his words. His autonomy had been hard won, and Anders knew better than anyone what it felt like to fight to have freedom over your own thoughts and actions. Fenris had learned that life alone, even among a sea of friends, was no life at all. Anders could understand that. When he had become a warden, he'd felt the same way.

Trust was hard to give freely, but once it was, once you took the leap of faith, the reward was immeasurable.

Anders had many regrets in his life, but he would never regret the time it had taken Fenris to open up to him. He would never regret the things he had done that had led them to each other. Maybe it was silly, but merging with Justice had been the catalyst for him to flee the wardens and to Kirkwall. It had led him to Hawke, and then to Fenris.

It had been the worst and the best decision of his life.

No one understood him or loved him like Fenris did. The two of them were intertwined now, only occasional parting, just to come back together again. They still bickered and argued like they always had, about mages and slaves, about how mages should be treated and where the line was. But there was no real animosity like there used to be. It was just two people with slightly opposing viewpoints, debating.

It was what he had once wished for in Kirkwall. Ah, but no real regrets, remember?

Anders sank down into his well cushioned chair, and sighed. They were in Aedan and Zevran's bedchamber, and the room had the stamp of Zevran everywhere. Anders knew that Aedan would have been content with just a bed, and a dresser. But Zevran was like Anders, in that he needed more comfort out of life. So the bed was large and the mattress well stuffed. On one end of the enormous room sat a sitting area with two plush sofas. Next to that was a round table, polished to a glossy shine. Anders sat in one of the chairs that surrounded it, while Zevran and Fenris were sitting in its partners.

Knowing Zevran and Aedan, Anders tried not to think about what they had probably done in every inch of this room.

"Ah!" Zevran cried, breaking Anders out of his thoughts. "I have you now." He triumphantly set the piece he had captured next to his growing pile on the side of the board.

Fenris gave the other elf a small smile. "So you say. I would have thought you would have given up on setting these obvious traps. You only speak so when you are trying to lure me into a false sense of security."

Chuckling, Zevran propped his elbow on the table, and placed his chin in his hand. "As obvious as the trap that Flemeth is setting up for us, no?"

There it was-the thing that the three of them had been avoiding for days now. While Aedan, Merrill, Christopher and Carver spent their time trying to map out everything they knew about the Eluvians, Arlathan, and Flemeth, Anders, Zevran and Fenris had decided to keep to themselves. Carver could add little, but his voice of caution was needed where the others were concerned.

Aedan was also trying to root out the Tevinter spy that had infiltrated Weisshaupt. He didn't like the fact that there was someone there reporting to Therion, someone who had gone through Frey's missives and sent them to Minrathous. Zevran, for all his apparent idleness, used his time during the night to narrow down the list of suspects. It was slow going because Weisshaupt had grown over the years, and the demon masquerading as Frey hadn't been too interested in keeping records.

As if by some taciturn agreement, the three of them had avoided mentioning anything about Tevinter, Arlathan, or Flemeth. But it seemed that Zevran had decided it must be spoken of.

Fenris paused with his fingers hovering over his templar. "Speak plainly, Zev. You know I hate it when you speak in riddles and make me guess your intentions. I am not in the mood."

"Since when are you ever in the mood?" Zevran let out a dramatic sigh. "But if you must spoil my fun, then all right. I think Aedan is being short sighted, and it will lead to nothing good."

Fenris slowly raised his eyes, and Anders straightened in his chair. This was unlike Zevran. It was rare that he ever questioned Aedan, at least publicly. Anders jerked his head towards the closed door that led to Aedan's study, as if the First Warden could somehow sense they were talking about him and would burst through the door at any moment. He turned back when Fenris spoke.

"I have my opinions," Fenris said carefully, "but you seem to have your own that you wish us to hear, without Aedan's presence."

"Flemeth is like us right now, no?" Zevran waved his hand in front of the board. "We are pieces to be used so she can win some game. She plans her moves far ahead, centuries even. Now you and I, we are suspicious by nature. We see plots and ulterior motives in everyone and everything. It is how you and I survive, yes? Even so, I have never been able to work out exactly what she has been up to, and I consider myself very intelligent when it comes to these things."

He reached over and picked up one of Fenris' templars, ruining the game. But it no longer mattered when he held up the piece. "First you have my Aedan. He is strong, but young still. His family, they are betrayed, slaughtered in front of him, his home destroyed. He has no one until the warden Duncan comes. He saves my Aedan, setting him on a path." He placed the piece in the center of the board.

Plucking another templar off the board, he held this one up as well. "Then you have our good King Alistair," another templar, "and King Cailan, his half-brother. Alistair is a bastard, no? Not in temperament, but in blood. He and my Aedan meet at Ostagar." One of the pieces was set down next to the templar already on the board. "Along with Cailan." The third templar joined the other two.

Fenris and Anders sat engrossed while Zevran spoke, Fenris with a frown on his face.

"Ostagar happens, and almost everyone dies." In a dramatic gesture, Zevran scattered all of the pieces on the board except for the three in the center, toppling them. "Few are lucky to escape-Cailan is not one of them." He flicked his index finger at the game piece and it fell over. "Aedan and Alistair, they are not with the army. Duncan knew of Alistair's bloodline, and had not wanted him to join the fray. So he gives them a task to light a beacon, away from battle. Not without its peril, but not in the fight with the horde either.

"They are betrayed, the battle lost, and Alistair and Aedan are left half dead in a tower. They are about to be killed, no? Until someone comes and saves them." He picked up one of his pieces, the Grand Enchanter. "Flemeth comes to save Aedan and Alistair. Not the king and not Duncan. But two wardens, one of which has only been so for a day. She heals them, gives them shelter from the horde, and then bids them to unite Ferelden under one banner using warden treaties. She even gives them her daughter as a companion, urging them to use her skills. This Witch of the Wilds, this Flemeth of legend, has taken an interest in two wardens with no real experience in what it would take to do such a thing, let alone kill an Archdemon. I have asked myself often, why had she done it? But in the past, I have let it go, because she inadvertently brought Aedan into my life. Now I know that I shouldn't have." He placed the Grand Enchanter on the board, but slightly away from the rest. He joined a mage next to the two templars.

"The child her daughter gave birth to," Fenris muttered, his eyes locked on the board. "That was her goal."

"Was it?" Zevran mused. "I used to believe that, but I think I did not have the whole picture, just as you two did not."

"Not just the child," Anders said. "She wanted something more. She could have saved any other warden, but she chose Alistair as well."

Zevran gave him an approving smile. "Just so. It seems a coincidence at first, but I no longer think so. Not with the encounter your friend Hawke had."

Anders reached out and picked up a mage piece. He set it next to the Grand Enchanter. "The way Hawke told it, Flemeth came to them in the form of a dragon. They were fleeing from the horde, and were surrounded. Flemeth offered to help them get to a city where they could catch a ship to escape Ferelden for Kirkwall. In exchange, she was supposed to take an amulet to the dalish elves on Sundermount. Fenris and I were both with Hawke when she did as she was told. Part of the witch was in the amulet, and she was born anew.

"Before she left, she said, 'We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inventible plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.'"

"'It is only when you fall that you can learn to fly.'" Fenris finished. "I remember that. She also asked me if I was truly free. I told her she saw too much."

"Marian listened to her, did she not?" Zevran asked. "She is a very powerful mage, not only in ability, but politically as well-the first of her kind outside of Tevinter. She does not answer to the Circle, or to the Chantry. From my understanding, she was the lynchpin that held your group together in Kirkwall. Without her, none of you would have ever spoken to each other, much less met. Alistair, another that she saved, is now on the throne of Ferelden. Aedan, is First Warden. Marian Hawke is Viscount of Kirkwall, married to the Knight-Commander."

Zevran began to group pieces together, adding a new one with each name he spoke. "Of Aedan's companions, we have Wynne, who is now an Arch Mage with powerful connections to the Circle of Magi in Nevarra. As I said, Alistair is King of Ferelden. Leliana, is the left hand of the Divine in Orlais. I still have my connections throughout Thedas. Sten, a qunari, returned to Par Vollen, but he and Aedan still keep in contact. Shale the golem went to Kal-Sharok in the Anderfels, and Aedan has spoken to her since we came here. Oghren is disreputable, but he has his own connections in Orzammar. Powerful friends for a powerful person no? None of which would have happened if Aedan had not survived. I would still be with the Crows or dead. Alistair would have perished in Ostagar. Oghren would have died searching for his wife. Leliana would never have left Lothering, and might have been killed with the others. Shale would have remained frozen for all eternity. Sten would have been left to rot in a cage as the darkspawn overtook Lothering. Wynne most certainly would have died in the tower when it fell, whether by a demon when she defended her charges, or by the templars when they enacted the Right of Annulment, it does not matter.

"Aedan was our lynchpin. Now most of us are in positions of power, or know those that do."

Anders stared at the board, his mind in a whirl. "Why? Why would she do this?"

"I do not know. If I did, I would not have my concerns now," Zevran answered honestly. "If Aedan had died… If she had miscalculated even the smallest bit, none of this would have come to pass. The maneuvering is staggering, is it not? In one fell swoop, she delivered to each of us the one man that saved us."

"And me," Anders said. He added another mage piece to the group on the board. "If it wasn't for Aedan, I would have hanged."

"You are where it converges. Your importance cannot be ignored." Zevran gave him a small smile.

Fenris began adding his own pieces. "Aveline, Captain of the Guard. She would have died trying to save her husband. Merrill, who knows all about elven lore, and Eluvians, she would have destroyed herself if not for Hawke. Varric, whose connections rival your own, Zevran. Without Hawke, he would have died in the Deep Roads, betrayed by his brother. Isabela, who has the fastest ship on the seas. The qunari would have found her eventually, and then she would have wished she had died. With her comes Rivain, and those she knows there. Carver, who thought he had destroyed Corypheus, one of the ancient magisters that had started it all. Flemeth saved Carver's life as well. Anders, half-brother to King Medwin of the Anderfels."

Fenris glanced up. "There is also Sebastian Vael, and a multitude of others."

"Indeed," Zevran said in approval. "The spider's web spreads out, and becomes more intricate with each person Marian and Aedan have saved-the King of Orzammar, a few of the dalish clans in Ferelden, the Circle of Ferelden."

"Feynriel," Anders intoned. "The templars and mages in Kirkwall. So many I can't remember them all."

Looking at the board, something occurred to Anders that stole his breath. "If Aedan were to call for help, who would come? How about Hawke and Aedan together?"

Fenris' chair scraped on the floor as he abruptly got to his feet. "All of them-the dalish, the dwarves, the humans, the mages, the templars, and the Grey Wardens. All of Starkhaven, Kirkwall, Ferelden, and the Anderfels would answer their call-all of that and more. Maybe not right away, but most would come without hesitation. Between Marian and Aedan, over half of Thedas or those in power call them friend, most of them owing debts of life."

Zevran slapped a palm on the table. "That's it. I did not have the whole picture, no? Oh, what a crafty old bitch she is."

"She sent Aedan and Fenris to Tevinter on purpose," Anders whispered. "She told Feynriel about the Eluvians. She wanted Cato to know. Why?"

"She wants us to go to Arlathan. She is betting on Aedan's desire to end the Blights, and to find Morrigan to spur him on." Zevran straightened in his chair and spread his hands on the table. "She wants war with Tevinter, and she has placed her pieces very carefully so that it will be so. There have been several exalted Marches on Minrathous, but it would still not call an army of the scale that Aedan and Marian could. But she also wants us to go to Arlathan." He snorted in frustration. "Ah, so we do not have all the pieces yet."

"It has to be her daughter. Aedan said that Morrigan went through an Eluvian, but where else could she have gone that Flemeth could not reach, except for Arlathan." Anders asked.

"I don't know," Zevran said. "But the thought of ending the Blights and finding his son, tantalizes Aedan."

For the first time, Anders saw something he had never thought to see on Zevran's face—uncertainty. It shook the mage, and he opened his mouth before he could think. "You don't want Aedan to find her, do you?"

Zevran looked startled and sucked in a surprised breath. "Ah… You have become very perceptive. I admit this, yes? Aedan will not listen to reason when it concerns her and the child. He had a very different childhood than any of us. He grew up in a happy home, where he knew nothing but love. Aedan… He has always known that he preferred men, but he tried to like women, for his family. He could never do it, a rarity I think. Most men would be able to perform a little bit, but not my Aedan. They do nothing for him. So he thinks to himself, that this is the way I am, and I will be happy and content as an uncle. But now he does have a child out there, a child who does not know his father. It eats at him, this thought. He can't imagine a child not knowing a father that wants to see him."

Zevran smiled. "He is a bit naïve when it comes to these things, even after all this time. It's one of the many things I love about him. But it will also lead to his heartbreak. We don't know what the child is. We don't know what Morrigan has done to him. But Aedan is blind when I bring these things up. He tells me I am worried over nothing."

 _Don't ask_ , Anders thought to himself. _It's not important, don't ask._

"If Aedan can't um… perform with women, how did he…"

 _Damn it! Wonderful, Anders._ That's _what you take out of this?_

Fenris rolled his eyes. Anders couldn't blame him.

Zevran cleared his throat. "Usually I would go into lurid detail, and make both of you jealous of my Aedan's prowess. Sufficed to say, I was there and helped him forget just what was happening."

Sitting back down in his chair, Fenris began to drum his fingers on the table. "As lovely as that information is, we still don't know what she wants in Arlathan. Or why she deemed Anders so important."

"The only way to find out is to go," Anders pointed out. The two elves looked at him. "What? It's the truth. Despite what she wants, she can't _make_ Aedan or Marian declare war on Tevinter. Aedan and I have already sent off missives to Medwin, and hopefully he will receive them soon, thus averting a war with the Anderfels. The wardens would never try to enter into a war with Tevinter, that's insane. Like we've been saying this whole time, we're missing key pieces to the puzzle. Our answers might lay in Arlathan."

"I can't believe you're telling us that you would rather go somewhere no one has seen in centuries, on the word of the Black Divine and a witch," Fenris said.

Anders grinned. "I can't either, but here we are."


	16. Chapter 16

"I thought I'd find you here." Anders walked over to where Fenris was sitting on the floor, and sank down next to him. Fenris had his legs bent, and was resting his chin on his knees, his eyes locked with the Eluvian in front of him. He and Anders both were wearing their warden's armor, and their packs were full and ready in one corner of the room.

Anders nudged Fenris with his shoulder, and held out a half a loaf of fresh bread. The elf muttered his thanks when he took it, but he didn't eat so much as a bite. The others were getting ready to leave- Fenris and Anders were just the first to gather in the room.

Turning the bread over in his hands, Fenris stared down at it. "I've never given much thought to what I am," he said slowly, almost to himself.

Anders laughed. "What? A sexy elf? I should count myself lucky that you haven't realized that before now. Someone else might have gotten to you first."

Fenris blew out an irritated breath, and his bangs shifted out of his eyes. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Nudging Fenris with his shoulder again in apology, Anders' smile dropped from his face. "All right, what's wrong?"

Fenris gestured with the bread towards the Eluvian. "I've seen enough of the world now, that I find myself surprised that I've never given much thought about being an elf and what that means. I use to think it meant that no matter where I was born in Thedas, I would have always lived the life of a slave. The elves in Tevinter are nothing but slaves, with few exception. The city elves in the rest of Thedas are treated little better. None hold office, none hold any real wealth or power. And don't cite me examples of mercenaries and thieves, they have only the power the law allows them to get away with. One day, they too will be nothing."

He'd been thinking about it for days now. Fenris didn't like going into something blind, and he knew next to nothing about the elvhen. All around him, the people of Thedas had stories and tradition. Fenris had none. He'd seen the elves in the Alienages, cling to little things that defined them as a people. The dalish insisted they were the last of their kind. But what did any of them truly know about themselves?

"They call them master and mistress," Fenris continued on. "The elves in the city. They call the humans they work for by the same names I had to call everyone who was not a slave in Minrathous. The dalish are no better. They have the illusion of freedom, but they are really just wandering the world-rootless. It's been centuries since Arlathan fell, what do the dalish really know of where they came from? What does Merrill know?"

Anders cleared his throat. "You're scared, aren't you?"

Fenris' gauntlet tore through the bread in his fist, but he didn't deny Anders' words. "Perhaps… What was done to me… it was their magic. If they could conjure something like that, what else might we find? But at the same time, I can't go on not knowing… not knowing why. Why me? What was it about me that made it so that I lived? I've never been anything special. I'm not like Marian or Aedan. Maybe I'll find my answers there."

"Oh, love…" Anders leaned his head against Fenris' shoulder. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do. No matter what was done to you, you were always destined to do great things. I believe this. You have this ability to see straight to the heart of the matter that I wished I possessed. You're brave, and loyal." He turned his head a nipped at Fenris' ear. "And you're great in bed."

Fenris' lips twitched in a small smile. "I see… My greatness to you has more to do with my prowess in the bedchamber."

"See," Anders whispered. "Right to the heart of it."

For the first time in days, Fenris' swirling thoughts stopped. Maybe it had more to do with being around Merrill for so long. She liked to tell the stories of the dalish, and had spent considerable time on the way to Weisshaupt doing so. It had made Fenris wonder just what else he had missed out on in his life. The dalish looked down on the elves that weren't part of a tribe. They saw them as lost, and even human. Fenris had hated them for it.

Now he had to wonder if the dalish should be pitied. They were nothing but the shadows of a once great civilization. They could pretend all they wanted, but they were no more pure elven than any elf in Tevinter or the cities of Thedas. When he thought about it like that, his resentment towards them receded.

Fenris tried to salvage what was left of his bread, ripping off some of the larger chunks and popping them into his mouth. He ate quickly, and had just finished when the door behind them opened. They both got to their feet as the others trooped into the room. Fenris and Anders scooped up their packs, and slung them over their shoulders.

"Are we ready?" Anders asked. He ran his eyes over each one. "Aedan, you've got enough plate on you to make any dwarven armor smith weep with joy. Carver, your face isn't scowling in disapproval enough, you need to fix that. Merrill, eyes bright with anticipation, good, good. Zevran, I see two daggers on those lovely hips of yours. I'm going to assume you have more on your wonderful person. Christopher, ready to heal these idiots?" Finally he glanced back at Fenris. "And now all we need is Fenris to glow, and we can be off to parts unknown and more than likely dangerous."

The room fell silent except for Merrill who was laughing behind her hands.

Fenris rolled his eyes and turned towards the mirror. "Ignore him. You know how he gets when he's nervous." His brands flashed and he touched the blank surface of the Eluvian with his finger.

"I don't scowl. Do I?" Carver asked.

It was a good thing his back was to Carver and he couldn't see Fenris roll his eyes again. He ignored the others trying to reassure Carver, as images flickered across the Eluvian's surface. His heart hammered in his chest, and he hesitated. He was acutely aware of how the room had gone quiet. He wouldn't have been surprised if he found out that no one was so much as breathing. Maker knew that the air had seized in Fenris' lungs.

"Arlathan," he whispered.

For the first time, the rapid fire images didn't slow down to a small handful. Instead, it halted completely on one image. Fenris had just enough time to see a dark city under the earth before all chaos broke loose.

If the Blight was a tangible thing, then Fenris would have seen the tendrils that seeped out of the Eluvian. The corruption spread thick and fast, washing over Fenris and passing through him.

When the screaming started, Fenris jerked his hand away, closing off the portal.

* * *

Aedan Cousland had known much sorrow in his short life. His family was gone, killed by betrayal and greed. His brother might as well be dead to him, for all the time he had spent with Fergus after his family had died. Fergus had remarried long ago, and he had children now. Aedan had nieces and nephews he'd never seen. Where once Fergus and Aedan had been close, their family's deaths and the things each of them had had to do in order to survive the Blight, had taken its toll. It was painful when they saw each other, so neither of them tried.

Aedan had lost friends as well, and had had to do things that still gave him nightmares years later, in order to protect those that he could.

But the one constant in his life, the one thing that Aedan could always count on, was Zevran. Aedan didn't know why the normally fickle elf had chosen to stay with him all these years, but he'd never questioned it. He'd lost Zevran once, long ago, when he'd traveled to Antiva in order to make sure the Crows never came after him again. There had been no goodbyes, no note. Just one day Zevran was gone, and Aedan had known- Maker, help him-where Zev had left for.

The months they'd been apart had torn him up inside, and Aedan had never felt so alone. Alistair was king now, and there would be no more talks around the campfire. Leliana and the others had moved on as well, each going their own way. There had been times when Aedan had questioned his decision to live instead of killing the Archdemon himself. Those had been his darkest moments.

But when Zevran had returned, showing up at the Vigil one day, as if he'd never left, Aedan had known it'd been worth it. His Crow had come back to him, without oaths binding him to Aedan's side, without Aedan begging or asking him to. Zevran had chosen Aedan of his own free will, and the warden promised himself he would never let him regret it.

Zevran was as free as any man could ever be, and Aedan wasn't ever going to change that about him.

* * *

Zevran lay curled up in Aedan's arms, while the warden leaned over him and sobbed. When the corruption had poured out of the Eluvian, Carver and Zevran had cried out in pain and dropped to the floor. Merrill and Christopher knelt next to Carver, while Anders and Fenris tried to talk to Aedan.

"We have to have them attempt the Joining," Anders said gently. "Aedan, you have to listen to me, they're going to die."

Aedan had stripped off his gauntlets, and ran his hands over Zevran's face, as if he could keep back the rapidly encroaching taint just under his skin. "I… I can't do that to him… I can't take that choice from him… Maker… help me…" He pressed a kiss to Zevran's grey lips, and sobbed against his skin. "Too many choices taken from him in his life… I won't… He'd hate me."

Even if the others hadn't realized it yet, Fenris knew this was why Cato had needed the Grey Wardens to make this trek. Maybe he'd been speaking the truth about time being a factor, but Fenris knew that the Black Divine had been aware of what was on the other side of the Eluvian.

He glanced behind him to Christopher. If Aedan wasn't going to do something, then Fenris would. "Chris, go and get Helena, tell her we have two people that need the Joining."

"I'll go," Merrill said. "Christopher needs to keep healing Carver. His spells are keeping him from succumbing as quickly as he would." She got to her feet and darted out the door.

"No!" Aedan jerked his head up, his face twisted in anguish "I told you… He'd hate me for it. If I took this choice away from him, he'd—"

Fenris did something he'd wanted to do for a long time. Something that Aedan had done often enough in the past, when Fenris wouldn't listen to reason. He drew his fist back, still covered in his gauntlet, and slammed it into Aedan's jaw. The First Warden's head snapped to the side, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, shit," Anders muttered, before Aedan growled and lunged at Fenris. The two men went down to the floor, their fists flying. Fenris' nose broke when Aedan landed a solid punch, blood gushing down his face and into the back of his throat.

"You're being foolish," Fenris hissed. "He won't thank you for letting him die." He was crushed under Aedan's massive weight, and only his armor saved him from his ribs cracking from the pressure.

"You don't understand!" Aedan cried. He threw another punch, but Fenris caught his fist in between his hands.

"I understand better than you think, Cousland." Fenris turned his head to the side and spat blood. "And as admirable as it is that you don't want to curtail his freedom, this is taking it too far. Think! Zev would want to live."

Aedan lowered his arm, and rolled off of Fenris to sprawl out on the floor. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, Maker… If he dies… If he…"

"Cato knew of this," Fenris snarled. "He knew, and he didn't warn us. I hope he shows his face in Weisshaupt, just so I can rip it from his shoulders."

"I think he was going to," Christopher pointed out. His hands hovered over Carver, and Fenris could feel his magic fill the room. "Things just went out of control too quickly for him to finish."

Even though that might be true, Fenris was reluctant to let go of his anger. If Carver died, he wasn't ever going to forgive himself for not listening to the templar. How would he ever face Marian again?

The door burst open, and Helena and Merrill rushed into the room. Helena was a deceptively small woman, with dark brown hair. Her blue eyes were overly large on her face, and if one saw her from a distance, you would mistake her for a child. It was only up close that you saw her heavily muscled arms, and the steel in her spine. No one would ever think she was a dwarf, but Fenris was convinced if it was possible, there was at least one in her ancestry.

She took in the scene without comment, and knelt down next to Carver first. Merrill and Christopher helped her to tip the contents of the Joining cup passed his lips. Carver's body jerked, his legs twitching, and then he went deathly still.

Fenris released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when Carver abruptly sat up, his eyes wide. "Fuck me…" he muttered before falling back down to the floor.

Aedan had crawled over to Zevran and had his head in his lap. His face was bloody and bruised, and some of his knuckles had split on his right hand. Fenris was sure he didn't look any better. He brushed Zevran's hair out of his face, and angled him so that Helena could get to him easier. She paused, the cup held just in front of the assassin's lips.

"Do it," Aedan said. "Do it, and may he forgive me for it."

Helena gave him a short nod, and gently poured some of the blood into the elf's mouth. Zevran swallowed out of reflex, while Aedan's eyes were riveted on his face.

"Come on, Zev. If you wake up, I promise I'll fuck the shit out of you for days," Aedan whispered, heedless of who could hear him. It was a testament to Helena's dedication to Aedan, that she didn't even bat an eyelash at his words.

In his periphery, Fenris could see that Carver was sitting up now, but his head was buried in his trembling hands. Zevran's eyes snapped open, and he gasped in a lungful of air. His hands flailed and he grabbed onto Aedan's shoulders.

"For days, my warden?" the elf rasped. Aedan pressed a kiss to Zevran's lips, his shoulders shaking from laughter and relief.

Anders sank down to the floor next to Fenris. He gently turned the elf's face towards him, and a trickle of healing magic washed over him. "This is going to hurt, love." He pinched the broken bridge of Fenris' nose and snapped it back into place. Fenris' hands jerked from the pain, but it was brief.

Both Carver and Zevran were helped to their feet. Carver was a bit more unsteady than the elf was, and Merrill and Christopher helped bolster him. With a few muttered words of thanks, Aedan dismissed Helena with instructions to let no one near the room.

As soon as the door shut behind her, everyone began talking at once. Their voices of fear and anger clamored over each other, until Fenris couldn't think above the din. His brands flared in agitation and the room swiftly fell silent, everyone's eyes turning towards him.

"We should smash the mirror," Fenris said. "We got lucky this time, but who knows—"

"No." Aedan bent down and picked up his gauntlets from the floor. He casually slipped them back on. "We go as planned."

"Are you insane?" Fenris asked. "Zev and Carver almost died. We're fortunate that they didn't. Even if we are still going, they need time to recover."

"Do they?" Aedan glanced at Zevran, then at Carver.

The assassin smiled up at Aedan. "I like to know what tries to kill me, yes? I've been through worse."

Carver pushed away from Merrill and Christopher. "How can you be so accepting of this? Sure, I'm alive, but I don't want to be a fucking warden. If I did, I would have run off to join them instead of the templars. I was making a name for myself, rising up in the ranks." He absently touched the Sword of Mercy on his breastplate. "That's gone now. That's…" He turned away from them, his hands clenched at his sides. "Fine. I just hope it's worth it."

When Anders went to go and heal Aedan, Fenris walked over to Carver and touched him on the shoulder. Even though he couldn't feel it through his armor, Carver flinched just the same. He turned his head so he could see Fenris. "You know what being a templar meant to me. I just can't accept it. I can't…"

Fenris knew. He knew better than anyone else. Carver had come to him in Kirkwall, and they had talked about his decision over bottles of wine. Carver had always felt that he'd been in both of his sisters' shadow, never really able to make a name for himself. The city guard had been out of the question. That was Aveline's domain, and Carver didn't trust his sister to not interfere and let him stand on his own. He hadn't liked the uncertainty of being a mercenary. He'd spent his whole life drifting from one safe harbor to another, and had wanted to settle down in one place. With his skills, that had left the templars. Carver had seen how blood mages had run rampant in Kirkwall, and had wanted to do some good.

Now it had been taken from him, snatched away in a moment no longer than a heartbeat.

Fenris wasn't any good at comforting people, so he spoke from his own experience. "I know what you're feeling right now. But this might not be as terrible as you think. You're alive, and are now able to fight something much more dangerous than blood mages and abominations. You'd become unhappy in Kirkwall anyway, don't deny it."

Carver glanced away. He _couldn't_ deny it. He had written to Fenris often over the past few years, complaining that Marian had been telling Cullen to keep Carver in the Gallows and away from any real danger. It had enraged Carver, that his sister's misplaced fear was encroaching on how he lived his life. It was why he'd volunteered to willingly to come to Weisshaupt with Fenris. He'd needed to get away.

Shaking his head, Carver sighed. "You're right. I just… I just need time to think."

"You better think quickly," Fenris said. "Aedan's angry now."

"And you aren't?"

The smile he gave Carver was feral. "I am… Make no mistake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been planning on this happening for a while. If you play through the dalish origin in DA:O Tamlen talks about seeing a city underground before the Blight comes pouring out. I had wondered why the Blight would come from Arlathan, or at least, that's where I believe you're suppose to think it is from the game.
> 
> For those curious, yes, Carver got the most votes for Nate. On here and on FFN.


	17. Chapter 17

Not only was Arlathan underground, but the city had been sunk into part of the Deep Roads. Fenris took his hand off the Eluvian and banked his power. All three mages had tapped their staves against the ground, illuminating the cavern they found themselves in with three glowing balls of light.

"Maker, preserve us," Carver whispered in awe.

"Looks like he preserved everything," Fenris replied. The light spells had chased the shadows back, forcing them to retreat from the crumbling ruins that had once been the Deep Roads.

It also reflected off of the barrier in front of them. it shimmered with iridescent light, almost like a rainbow colored soap bubble. The myriad colors shifted and swirled. Fenris couldn't count how many moved across the barrier's surface. But the barrier wasn't what had the wardens moving slowly towards it to get a better look.

It was what was on the other side.

Giant trees arched upwards, their branches and leaves creating a canopy. Green grass spread across the ground, stopping right at the barrier's edge. Fenris could just make out a stone path that cut through the trees. When he looked up he could see Arlathan. The light spells didn't reach far enough, but Fenris could still see the soaring towers of the city.

Fenris saw Anders reach out and his fingers hovered over the barrier. Fenris snatched at his wrist, and stopped him when he had been a hair's breadth from touching it. "Don't. we don't know what this is," he warned.

"No, love… I think we know exactly what this is," Anders whispered. "They tried to save themselves…"

"There's more to it than that," Christopher said. "There's no sun here, no light. How did all this vegetation survive?"

"It's sleeping," Merrill said. "Arlathan is sleeping. Can't you feel it?"

"I feel something," Anders said wryly. "Like a lot of darkspawn."

Fenris drew his sword from his back, and took a step away from the barrier. "They're coming closer." His head snapped from the left and to the right as he tried to pinpoint where the darkspawn were coming from. The cavern had only three entrances, and one of them was blocked by the barrier. "Aedan…"

"Shit…" Aedan strapped his shield to his arm and unsheathed his sword. "Not good. I can't tell where they're coming from. There's too many of them."

"How many is too many?" Christopher asked. He and Merrill moved so that their backs were against a wall.

"Remember when Corypheus gathered all those darkspawn?" Aedan jerked his head at Carver, and he moved to stand in front of the mages, the hilt of his greatsword in both hands.

"Oh, shit," Christopher cursed. "That many?"

Without being told to, Zevran slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

"No," Fenris said grimly. "More."

"Aedan," Anders called out. "Now would be a good time to leave and get more wardens. If even you can't tell where they're coming from…" He didn't need to finish the sentence. They all knew what it meant. Aedan had joined during a Blight. He had seen the Horde and fought an Archdemon. If even he couldn't pinpoint where the darkspawn were…

"Fuck!" Aedan shouted. "What else is going to go wrong?"

"Don't say that, please," Anders begged. "I thought you knew better than that by now."

"He never listens to good advice."

As one, the wardens turned their heads to the sound of the voice. A woman stood on the other side of the barrier. She had long black hair that was pulled high on the back of her head, and her eyes… Fenris had seen eyes light that in night creatures. They were golden, and seemed to peer right through Aedan. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and it pushed her breasts together. Not that she seemed to mind. Her top was nothing more than dark red cloth that was looped around her neck so that it draped in front, barely covering her.

Fenris didn't like the condescending look she was giving Aedan.

"I tell him never to look for me and he does-twice now," she said. "Aedan shows a remarkable lack of good sense."

Aedan strode towards the barrier, his face thunderous. "Did you seriously expect that I would give up?"

"I gave you a chance to come with me, you declined. That's on your head, not mine."

"I had duties, Morrigan," Aedan shouted. "I couldn't just abandon them because you decided you had to leave."

She rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes, your duties. Is the world a better place now? Have you conquered all evil in Thedas? No? Then I believe your duties didn't have the import you assigned them. The world is full of those that would do anything for power. Nothing you can do will ever change that. You never understood that."

"so your solution was better? To hide here and do what?" Aedan curled his lip. "I couldn't do that. I'm not the pessimist you are."

"I am a realist," she shot back. "Until I could determine what my mother's plans were, I wasn;t going to let her find me easily. I hold no grudge against you for not coming with me when I offered. But do not blame me for the decisions _you_ made. I have more than myself to think of now. Just as you had someone to think of when you made your decision."

Zevran melted out of the shadows, his daggers in his fists. "Morrigan… I see you still have a wonderfully sharp tongue. Why not let us through that lovely barrier, hm? We can all reminisce away from the darkspawn."

"My, my…" Morrigan tilted her head to the side. "So you're still with him… I must confess I'm surprised. I thought you would have flitted off years ago."

Zevran gave her a short bow. "I am full of surprises, no?"

Just at the edge of Fenris' consciousness, the darkspawn presence grew stronger. It was a scrabbling, clawing sensation, and it set his teeth on edge. "we do not have time for this. If the witch will not let us in, we must leave."

Morrigan's eyes snapped to Fenris. "Witch? You speak as if you know me, but you do not. I am sure I would have remembered you. Only the ignorant name me so."

"I call you a witch because that is what you are," Fenris growled. "You perform dark rituals and trap the souls of Tevinter gods in children. Your own mother is a bitch in dragon form that speaks riddles, and plays with lives."

Morrigan's eyebrows shot up. "Souls? I only recall the once. And if you've had dealings with my mother, then I can see where you got the idea of what I am like. You…" Her voice stuttered to a halt, and she drew closer to the barrier.

"Aedan, how did you get here?" She ran her eyes over Fenris, and a shiver of apprehension went down his spine. Her gaze zeroed in on the markings on his chin and throat.

"I got here the same way you did, through an Eluvian," Aedan said curtly.

Without any preamble, Morrigan touched the barrier, and drew her finger along its surface. She took a step back, drawing her hand slowly away as she moved. A section of the barrier parted away like a curtain. "Hurry. I can't leave it open for long."

Merrill of all people was the first to pass through the opening. In hindsight, Fenris shouldn't have been surprised. She'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for most of her life. She had no fear when it came to the elvhen and their magic.

The others followed, and when Anders moved to walk through, Fenris grabbed his wrist. "Wait…"

Morrigan gave him an irritated look. "yes, let's just keep the barrier open so that the corruption can seep in. That's a lovely idea."

Anders leaned down and whispered into Fenris' ear. "I'm with you, love, whatever happens."

Slipping his fingers down Anders' hand, he threaded their fingers together. "All right, but if the witch makes one wrong move, I'm taking her heart."

Morrigan laughed. "Oh, Aedan, you do find the drollest people."

* * *

Anders was worried about Fenris. He had silently held onto Anders' hand the whole trek to the city. Where Merrill and the others had exclaimed over this thing or that, Fenris had remained quiet, his eyes glued to Morrigan's back.

As they had walked, light spells had gone off on either side of the path, illuminating the way ahead. When they had passed the balls of light, they had dimmed once more, before dissipating into darkness. Anders had seen the spell before, but only in Minrathous.

It had been horrifying in a way to see the origins of a spell he had thought so miraculous in Tevinter. Had none of the magic the magisters had been their own? Or had they stolen it, like they had stolen everything else they had? Of course they had, Anders knew his history. It had been the elvhen that had shown the ancient magisters how to use lyrium and enter the Fade in dreams.

When they entered through the front gates of the city, Anders squeezed Fenris' hand. Maker above and the Blight below… It was beautiful. Like on the path, light spells flared to life as they walked down an empty street—or what was presumably a street. It was more of a wide path of undying grass that ran straight and branched off in various directions. Flowers that Anders had never seen before, not even in books, lined the street. Some of them actually glowed with their own colorful luminescence. There were little in the way of small homes. What was there were massive structures, with tall spires.

"Oh, Maker…" Anders tilted his head back and looked up. Where Tevinter was made out of gold and marble, Arlathan was built from wood that looked as hard as stone and lyrium. It was everywhere, a fortune's worth. One could spend several lifetimes taking all of the lyrium that went into the city, and still never see the end of it.

No one said a word, and even Merrill had gone silent. Every so often they would come across large statues set in the middle of the street at intersections. Anders knew who some of the depictions were, but not all of them. Most were of the gods that the dalish still worshiped. Merrill reached out and trailed her fingers along a statue of the goddess Mythal, the Protector.

It was eerie, this empty, beautiful city. Sadness washed over Anders for what the elves had lost. This should have been theirs, but instead, they had slavery and drudgery, or life as wanderers.

Anders saw something move in the shadows in his periphery, and he froze. Fenris stopped as well, his eyes darting to the shadows.

"Aedan…" Anders whispered. Then louder, "Aedan! We aren't alone."

Fenris still had his sword in his free hand, and he held it in front of him, using his other to pull Anders behind him. Anders had a moment to be both flattered that Fenris wanted to protect him, and a little irritated. When they got back, he was going to make Fenris buy him a sword, one he could use instead of his staff.

Morrigan turned to face them. "Ignore them. They won't harm you if you leave them alone."

"Who's they?" Carver demanded.

Morrigan sighed. "Really, another templar, Aedan? At least this one is a little less irritating."

Anders noticed she hadn't answered Carver's question. "Who's they? I wouldn't mind knowing what creepy crawling thing is in the shadows. Just, you know, for nightmare material."

"Ah!" Morrigan snapped her fingers. "I see. You already have someone who speaks liked he was hit on his head too many times."

If it wasn't for his grip on Fenris' hand, the elf would have lunged for Morrigan. As it was, he yanked on Anders' arm when he took a step towards her. "You'll hold your tongue, witch. Or I'll remove it myself."

Raising her arm high above her head, Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Fenris. "You wish to see what resides in Arlathan? Then I will show you." She spoke a word that-to Anders-sounded elvish. Every light spell in the city went off at once, and Anders shielded his eyes. He heard the others cry out, and he knew they were doing the same. It was as if the sun had come down on them, but without any heat. Anders opened his eyes and lowered his hand. Spots of green and purple danced in his vision, and he blinked a few times to get use to the light.

Then he wished he hadn't.

A high dragon weaved around the buildings to their left, rubbing its scales against the wood. It turned its horned head towards them, and its tongue flickered out like a snake before moving on. On their right, a pride demon stomped down a side street and then out of view, while above them…

"Are those…" Anders didn't think his voice had come out more than an inaudible whisper, but Aedan had heard him anyway and answered.

"Griffins… Those are griffins."

Arlathan was alight as if it was under a noonday sun, and now every beast and creature in the city had woken up.


	18. Chapter 18

Fenris had grown in the years that Anders and he had been together. Many things had shaped him into the man he was today. He had learned a tolerance for mages, and even a liking for a few. He no longer cringed visibly when Anders spoke of mage rights. He had killed his former master, and found out in part why he had been created. Before she had left, he and his sister had forged a new and tentative bond. Through her, he had discovered the man he had once been. He had friends now, people that he had opened up to and shared his life with. They were as loyal to him as he was to them.

Yes, Fenris had changed, but through it all he was still Fenris.

"You blood mage bitch!" Fenris shouted. He ripped his hand free from Anders, and rushed at Morrigan. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you." His brands reacted to his rage, and he was enveloped in a blue light, his sword raised high.

Several things happened at once. Merrill screamed in horror,and Anders shouted Fenris' name. Carver and Christopher moved as one, running towards Fenris to stop him. To Fenris' rage, Aedan and Zevran stepped in front of the witch, protecting her.

Morrigan just laughed.

She spoke a word and lowered her arms. The lights in the city went out, and plunged them back into darkness. Fenris lowered his sword and banked his power, but couldn't stop his momentum, and slammed into the solid wall that was Aedan in full plate. The two men went down to the ground, and Fenris wondered fleetingly if he and Aedan were destined to spend the rest of their lives on the ground and fighting each other-they did that entirely too much. He knew what that Zevran would say it was because they had some sort of unresolved sexual tension. Anders said that it was because they were too much alike, so of course they would be always fighting and arguing.

None of that mattered when Aedan's weight crushed him into the ground for the second time in as many hours. Fenris heard his sword clatter to the ground as it fell from his fingers. He could see nothing in the dark, and it was disorienting. Aedan's weight was abruptly lifted off of him, and several pairs of hands groped over Fenris and pulled him to his feet.

People were talking rapidly around him, and Fenris smelled the scent of elfroot. His hands latched onto am arm around his waist, and his fingers met with the familiar weave of Anders' robes. With a thought, the lyrium under his skin lit. He glanced over his shoulder to see Anders' startled eyes.

"Love, have we ever talked about your temper?" Anders asked softly.

"Several times," Fenris replied. "So let me save you the trouble, and say that I will kill her if she does something like that again, don't ask me to remain calm."

The light spells on either side of the road lit as they had before Morrigan's stunt. Off to the side, he could see Aedan and Morrigan in a whispered, but heated, argument.

Carver walked over to Fernis, the elf's sword in his hands. He held it out for Fenris to take, hilt first. "She does it again, and I'll show her why being addicted to lyrium is worth it to a templar."

Fenris saw Anders open his mouth, and the mage snapped it shut. There were times to debate a templar's talents-when you were in the presence of a witch was not one of them.

"I don't understand any of this," Merrill said. She chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. "This place, it's what I'd always dreamed it would be, but there's something wrong here. I can feel it. Why isn't anything attacking us?"

"Maybe we shouldn't question why we aren't being attacked," Anders said. "I like not being attacked."

"She's right." Christopher stood at Merrill's back, his staff in his hands. His eyes darted around, and his head turned every time they heard a new sound. "When was the last time you heard of a High Dragon that didn't attack when it saw fresh meat? Or a pride demon that just moved on?"

"This place is dead." Fenris balanced the flat of his blade on his shoulder. "It just doesn't know it yet."

"Then how do you explain her?" Anders asked as he pointed to Morrigan. Zevran had joined in the argument, and his hands were gesturing wildly.

"She's Flemeth's daughter," Fenris said. "I'm not going to even bother explaining her. We can't trust her, that's all we need to know." The five wardens exchanged a look. "If she makes a move, we put her down, whether Aedan wants it or not. His judgment can't be trusted on this."

"Agreed," Carver said resolutely. Christopher nodded.

Merrill and Anders both looked conflicted. "I don't know about this, love." Anders rubbed at his beard stubble. "I agree we should defend ourselves, but…"

"But nothing, Anders," Fenris growled. "Could you easily kill the mother of your child? You know how Aedan is."

Merrill sighed. "She shouldn't even be here."

Fenris refrained from pointing out that _none_ of them should be there. "Anders?"

"Gah!" Anders threw up his hands. "All right, all right. I see your point. Let's just not jump to conclusions, okay? So she's a bitch, doesn't mean that she means us harm."

"You're right," Fenris agreed. "But we need to watch her, regardless."

* * *

The elvhen had no homes in a way anyone else would know them. They were eternal and immortal. They spent their nights dreaming and shaping the Fade, while their days were dedicated to understanding the world around them. The elvhen knew more about Thedas and her secrets than any other. It was they who had taught the first humans how to use lyrium to tap into the Fade. They traded knowledge with the humans, teaching this young race what little they were capable of understanding. In return, they got to see a race whose lives were fleeting, and easily snuffed out. The elvhen had felt pity for the humans.

Until they too began to quicken and die.

When the elvhen realized that their lifespans were shortening, and that contact with the humans were to blame, they closed off their borders. This angered the humans, most especially the Tevinter Imperium. Tevinter had profited the most from contact with the elvhen. The magisters had become powerful under their tutelage, and they in turn used that power against the elvhen.

War was declared, and it reigned for six long years. During that time, Tevinter conquered every settlement they came across, human and elvhen alike. With each victory, their power grew. They used the magic they had been taught, twisting it for their own purposes until almost nothing was left of the harmonious magic that it had once been.

Demons poured through tears in the Veil, and pacts were made in blood and death. Tevinter worshipped false gods, who taught them the ways of blood magic. Creatures that had once lived harmoniously with the elvhen were driven mad, and turned on them. Dragons burned whole forests, and ancient creatures had run rampant, killing indiscriminately.

This was known as the Time of Madness.

The world was ending, and the elvhen were dying. Never having had to seriously consider their own mortality, the elvhen did something drastic. On the day that the center of their culture and learning was sunk into the ground, swallowed and betrayed by the very earth they had sworn to protect, they had cast a spell and damned them all.

* * *

The large building in the center of the city was many things. It was an amphitheater, a library, a place where those that lived in the city convene to discuss the world around them. It was a huge circular room, with stairs that led up to several levels. It was completely open, with no place to hide. The ground floor in the center was recessed, and if you looked up you could easily see the levels above you.

Everything in elvhen society was shared and on display. Knowledge, crafts, love, anger, it was for everyone to take part in. The elvhen were a part of the world they lived in, they didn't see a need to hide from it-until the humans came.

Anders stood in the middle of the floor and looked up, and up, and up… There were statues of various elves placed at intervals against the walls. One floor was stacked with scrolls and books, and his fingers itched to run up there and dig through them.

Tilting his head back, he looked at the carvings on the domed ceiling. It was a massive depiction of the elven pantheon. The gods were warring with faceless creatures, and in between the two armies, was a lone wolf.

_The wolf doesn't have to always be alone_ , he thought.

The others were milling about, but none of them wandered far from each other. Morrigan had been silent as she had led them inside. She had asked them to wait and then climbed the stairs. Anders turned his head, tracking her ascent. She had gone up four floors already, and had just reached the fifth.

He glanced at Aedan. He understood what Fenris and the others were saying, but he trusted Aedan, he always had. He might be misguided at times, but in the end he always did what was right—even if no one else liked it.

Merrill had walked over to one of the statues, and she let out a little shriek of surprise. Anders' head swiveled in her direction, and Christopher came running over to her. Merrill clapped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes were wide in horror.

Everyone converged on her at once. Merrill's shoulders were shaking, and she began sobbing. She mumbled something into her hands, and Christopher shook his head. "I can't understand you, what did you say?"

She lowered her hands to point at the statue, and her finger shook. "That… That's not a statue."

"What?" Anders blinked and took a step towards it. Fenris snagged the back of his robes and stopped him.

"Wait. We don't know—"

"Shit," Aedan muttered. He had his face inches away from the statue's. "She's right. I think… I think it's an elf."

Carver wasn't one to hesitate, so he walked over to it and touched its cheek. "Maker above," he breathed. He held up his finger, and then touched it to his tongue. "That's lyrium. But it's… It's been sapped. It's become nothing more than dust. I can still taste traces of magic in it, though."

"Are you sure?" Anders asked.

Carver gave him a look. "I've become an expert when if comes to lyrium over the past several years. So yes, I'm sure."

Emboldened now that Carver had touched it, Merrill strode forward and stopped right in front of the elvhen. She wiped her hands over it, brushing the thick layer of dust away. She was almost as covered in the dust as it had once been by the time she was done.

"It's a woman…" Zevran said. It was a blonde haired female, with pale skin and dressed in ancient armor. "And… do you see… on her throat?"

Silver lines of lyrium were embedded just under her skin.

Fenris let go of Anders and pushed forward. His fingers hovered just above the woman's skin, but he yanked his hand back and shook his head. "No… Why would… I don't…" He took a step away from her, then another, shaking his head in denial. "The ritual was excruciating for me, why would anyone do that? Why would she…"

Anders' heart ached for Fenris. Cato had told them that the ritual had been elvhen in origin, but to actually see it… He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Fenris' neck, giving him comfort, and letting him know he was there.

"They're all like that," Morrigan called.

Anders turned to see her making her way down the last flight of stairs to reach them. In her arms, she had a large, blanket wrapped bundle. "There are hundreds of them here, and in every building in the city."

Aedan's hands had clenched into fists, and Anders could see the tension in his face. "Is that…"

"Yes, yes," Morrigan said dismissively. "He just woke up so he's a little groggy." She pulled back the blanket to reveal the large blinking eyes of a small boy. Everyone in the room gasped except for Aedan, who took a tentative step forward. It was easy to tell who the boy was. He might have Morrigan's unnerving eyes, but the rest of his face, from his hawk like nose, to his shock of thick dark hair was undeniably Aedan.

The boy squirmed in Morrigan's arms and she rolled her eyes. "All right, you can get down. just don't run up the stairs. You know I hate it when you do that by yourself." She set him down on the floor and the blanket slipped away. He wore nothing but a cotton nightshirt that fell down past his knees, and his feet were bare.

"I…" Indecision warred on Aedan's face. He knelt down on the floor, and gave the boy a weak smile. "Hi, my name is Aedan, what's yours?"

The boy looked back at his mother, and shoved his index finger in his mouth. "Go on," Morrigan said. "He's not scary like the tall man, is he?"

He looked back, and pulled his fingers free with a pop. "Aedan."

"Yes, I'm Aedan," the commander said, pointing at himself. "What's your name?"

"Aedan."

"I know, so what is your na—"

"Oh, for the love of…" Morrigan sighed and crossed her arms. "Your name is Aedan. _His_ name is Aedan. I named him after you. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Zevran started laughing, and didn't even stop when Morrigan turned her glare on him.

"Wait," said Anders. "He's definitely Aedan's son, but why does he look like—"

"Like he's about two years old?" Morrigan finished for him. "It's why I came here. Time has stopped in Arlathan. Nothing ages, nothing changes. I am buying Aedan time until…" She stopped, and her face screwed up in annoyance. "I seem to be out of the habit of talking to others. I have said too much."

"Before the soul in him can consume him," Anders guessed. "Two souls can't share the same space. One will always devour the other."

Her eyes sharpened on him. "And how do you know this?"

Anders cleared his throat. "Lady, if anyone knows about how it feels to share their body with another, it's me." He felt a harsh yank on his sleeve, and he glanced down to see Fenris staring at him.

"Say it again," he demanded harshly.

"What? I just know how it is to share space. You know, with Justice trying to take over and…" He trailed off and glanced up. Everyone including the boy were staring at him now, each with various expressions of wonder and horror. Except for young Aedan, he just gave Anders a toothy grin.

"That's it," Fenris hissed. "That's why that bitch wanted me to save you so badly."

Anders held up his hands. "Now hold on there. I'm no expert. If any one of you will recall, I got very lucky. You lot did most of the work."

"What are you babbling about?" Morrigan crossed her arms, and tapped her foot in annoyance.

Anders tried not to quail under her glare. "I… I use to… I use to have…"

"He used to have a spirit inside him, one of Justice. It became corrupted, and we were forced to separate them," Fenris said. "He and the spirit survived."

Morrigan's arms slowly went lax at her sides. "Is this true?" She then directed her question to Aedan. "Is this true? What was done? Tell me! I have been searching for years, but haven't been able to find a solution without destroying them both."

"Mommy!" Aedan yelled. The child turned and ran for his mother, hiding behind her legs. "Tall man," he whimpered.

As one, they each turned towards the large entryway. Anders blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. The Architect strode in, and stopped when he saw them.

"I should have known you would come one day, Aedan. I had hoped it would not be so soon."


	19. Chapter 19

The wardens stared at the Architect incredulously, and he returned their gaze with one of his own. Morrigan… she began to laugh. "Oh! You should see the looks on your faces. This alone was worth letting everyone through the barrier."

"Where's my sister!" Fenris cried. Aedan and Anders both grabbed him at the same time, holding him back.

"You know, love, I think we really need to reevaluate your tendency to attack people without asking questions first." Anders had his arms wrapped around Fenris' waist, and Aedan had a strong grip on the elf's shoulders. They penned Fenris in between them, but that didn't prevent Fenris from yelling and cursing at the Architect.

And at Anders.

"I did ask him a question first. Is your hearing going, mage?" Fenris snapped.

Anders looked startled. "Whoa! Hey now, there's no reason to get mad at me."

"I…" Fenris felt some of his rage drain out of him. How did Anders keep doing that to him? He would have thought by now, that he was immune to the little remarks that Anders would make in order to get Fenris to calm down.

Fenris was just sick of the whole thing. He was sick of everything. He felt like he was being corralled physically and emotionally, and not just by Aedan and Anders. He was being led along by the nose, and he was tired of going along with it. No one could tell Fenris that Flemeth didn't have a hand in this as well. Where she was concerned, there was no such thing as a coincidence.

Fenris felt insecure when he didn't have all the answers. It stemmed from his time as a slave, and never knowing what the next day, hour, minute would bring him. It made him angry, and more likely to lash out.

But it didn't seem to matter how hard he tried to run from whatever Flemeth had planned for him and the others. She had him cornered, and he was reluctant to give in.

"Your sister is safe. She is here with Utha and Seranni in the lab." The Architect moved closer to them.

"That's close enough," Carver called. He stepped forward and drew his sword. "I've met your kind before, and I know you can't be trusted."

The Architect paused and tilted his head to the side. "Have you now? Carver Hawke I presume?"

"How did—"

"Who else?" The Architect waved a negligent hand. "Corypheus said many things to me before he died. I know of how you freed him from his prison, only to erroneously assume you destroyed him."

"What are you doing here?" Aedan asked. He had let go of Fenris and turned to face the darkspawn.

"The same thing you are-looking for answers." The Architect held his arms out wide, encompassing the room. "Corypheus taunted me with the knowledge of my own being. I had originally come to Tevinter to look for answers, instead, I found this."

Aedan turned his head and gave Morrigan a look. "Oh, don't look at me like that." She rolled her eyes. "Our goals are similar. He wants answers to the Blight, and I want…" She trailed off.

"You want to save your son," Zevran finished. "But I do not understand why you think you will find any answers here."

"You were always purposefully obtuse," Morrigan grumbled. "All right, then if we are all done threatening to kill each other, I will tell you. Although you might not wish to hear it."

* * *

The wardens each sat on the edge of the recessed center of the room, watching as Morrigan walked back and forth in the middle. Aedan had his son on his lap, and the boy was once more sleeping. Anders and Zevran both exchanged quick grins at the sight. Even though Zevran had expressed reservations about finding Aedan, the assassin would never say anything more now that they had.

Fenris drummed his fingers against the stone floor, his claw tipped fingers clacking each time they struck. Anders gently laid his hand over Fenris', and pressed down. He felt Fenris' arm tense, and then relax before he turned his hand over palm up, and entwined their fingers.

"My mother," Morrigan began, "as some of you have surmised, is not human. I have only theories on what she actually is, but nothing solid. It took me years to realize the scope of her machinations, and once I did, I chose to forestall it as long as I could.

"I came here for many reasons, and I am starting to believe that she knew how I would react and planned on it. I was meant to come here, the same as all of you."

Fenris' patience was at an end, and he spoke up. "Stop speaking in circles and get to the point."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him. "My… You are an angry little elf, aren't you?"

Surprisingly, Fenris let it go, although Anders could feel the tension in his hand. "I will not rise to your bait, witch."

"And I will not rise to yours, elf. Your coming here changes things, and I must say what I know, and then decisions must be made."

When Fenris didn't say anything more, Morrigan nodded her head and continued on. "My mother has always been a practitioner of the old ways, of how she felt magic was supposed to be used, and not the way the Chantry dictates it. She wishes a return to this, but several things need to happen in order for her desires to come to fruition."

Dread began to build in the pit of Anders' stomach. "What… What are you talking about?"

"It's very simple," Morrigan replied. "She wishes wild magic to return to Thedas. She is tired of hiding, and wants to once more be able to roam freely. To do that, Arlathan must wake, and the elvhen rise. To do that, Tevinter must fall. To do that, the Chantry and the Circles must be abolished. In short, my mother wishes for things to return to the way they once were."

"That's insane," Carver cried. "She can't mean to think that it will work."

"Can't she? She has been maneuvering for this for far longer than any of us have been alive." Morrigan glanced at the Architect. "Well… some of us."

"But how could she accomplish what she wants?" Christopher asked. "Starting a war with Tevinter would be suicidal for any one nation. Exalted Marches have failed over the years."

"Any one nation," Fenris said softly, and everyone turned to look at him. "But not all of them combined. Not if, say, there was a man who was connected to them all in various, but binding ways." He glanced meaningfully at Aedan.

Carefully, Zevran explained what he, Anders and Fenris had discovered just days beforehand, but had kept to themselves. When he was done, Aedan stared at him with mingling expressions of shock and horror.

"I'm not that powerful," Aedan said. "Zev, you know that. I can't just snap my fingers and call everyone to war. Why would I even do that?"

"You blatantly ignore the power you have, my warden, because you would never abuse it. It still does not change that fact that it is yours to wield." Zevran picked up Aedan's hand and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. "I have tried to tell you these things for years, but you refuse to see the truth. I love that about you, but you need to open your eyes, yes?"

"That still doesn't change the fact that I would never do it," Aedan said stubbornly. Anders smiled to himself. Maker, he and Fenris were too much alike at times. "And why would I even try to destroy the Chantry and the Circles? That doesn't make sense either."

"You will have no choice," Morrigan declared. "As I am beginning to realize that I have had very little choice. Mother wishes things to go back to before Arlathan fell, to before the Tevinter listened to their false gods and stormed the so called Golden City."

"So called?" Carver scowled. "Now you're going to mock the Chantry?"

"Oh? I always mock the Chantry, but in this I state fact." Morrigan pointed at the Architect. "The magisters found nothing the Golden City, and turned it black. They were cursed, but perhaps not by this Maker."

"Then by who?" Carver asked snidely.

"That is the question. I believe it was the elvhen that punished the magisters, or at least, had a hand in it. It was their magic that allowed entry in the first place, and Tevinter retaliated. The Blights are caused because the magisters turned darkspawn, are compelled to seek out their gods who lied to them. They swarm out from the Deep Roads, blighting the land that they had coveted. In this, the elvhen had their revenge.

"The Golden City was found empty, because the Maker had long been away from it. Or… he had been locked away."

"Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, tricked the gods and the Forgotten Ones, sealing them all away," Merrill intoned softly.

"Exactly." Morrigan nodded in approval. "Whether it is the Maker, or the Creators, the tale is still the same, is it not? The gods are no longer with us. I believe that whatever higher power that once resided in the Golden City, have long ago left it. I also believe that the elvhen knew exactly what would happen if the magisters stepped foot inside it. They were the first to roam the Fade in dreams, and they taught the magisters the trick of lyrium. How could they not know that to go into the Golden City was forbidden?"

She gestured at Fenris. "The elvhen once had warrior priests dedicated to Fen'Harel. They marked their bodies with lyrium tattoos to enable them to partially move through the Fade. The magisters used this knowledge to create their own warrior, but they didn't know the trick of it, so they caused much destruction and bloodshed. Elvhen rituals, elvhen gods, elvhen knowledge." She pointed straight down at the ground. "The answers to the Archdemons and the Blights are here. The answer to how I can save my son is here."

"And have you found these answers?" Christopher asked.

Morrigan folded her arms and looked away. The Architect answered for her. "Not yet. We have been stymied at every turn. There is something preventing us from succeeding. I have no memory of what I had been before, so I do not know if we are looking in the right place."

Anders sucked in an audible breath. The Architect's words rang in his ears, until everything else was drowned out.

_I have no memory of what I had been before._

"Anders?" Fenris' voice dimly penetrated the hammering of Anders' heart. He shot to his feet, and pulled his hand free from Fenris'.

Anders felt sick, and bile rose in his throat. He stumbled away from Fenris, and ignoring the concerned calls from the others, ran from the building.

* * *

Anders fell to his knees in the near dark, and emptied the contents of his stomach on the grass. His fingers clawed into the dirt and his arms shook, while he stared wide eyed at the ground.

Maker, above… He couldn't get the image out of his head. If Fenris hadn't been able to get away from Danarius, if he had been caught and his power used by the magisters at any time… Fuck… If they had succeeded, Fenris would be… He would have ended up like…

When the first sob escaped his lips, the rest that followed couldn't be held back. He hated them. he hated them all in a way he had never felt before. He had thought he'd known rage when it came to the Chantry and the templars, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

Gentle hands touched his chin and lifted his face. Anders felt the slight scratching of Fenris' gauntlets on his skin, but his lover was always so careful when he touched Anders with them on. Fenris had crouched down next to Anders, but when the mage launched himself at him with a cry, it knocked him back on his ass.

Anders' whole body shook as he cried into Fenris' neck, clutching him tightly. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry…" Anders muttered it over and over, sucking in great, gasping breaths.

Fenris turned his head and kissed Anders' hair. "What's wrong. Are you ill? What—"

"Have you ever wondered," Anders asked quietly, "what happened to the one that they used in the ritual? The one that they had bring them to the Golden City?"

"What…" Fenris' arms tightened around Anders. "The Architect… He doesn't remember who or what he is."

"And Corypheus does," Anders whispered. "Maker, how else to explain it?"

* * *

_The Golden City_

The slave dropped to his hands and knees, his body shaking from the pain. Long white hair fell around his face, obscuring his vision. He had done as the masters had asked, and brought them to where they had wanted to go.

_Now they will tell me who I am_ , he thought. _Please, let them tell me._

He had been born only a few hours ago, amidst agony and blood. His first memory had been of the bodies, piled like kindling in one part of the square. The alter he had awoken on, had been soaked with blood— _he_ had been soaked in blood. It still coated his naked form, and had turned the ends of his hair a grisly dark shade of red.

He glanced down his arms, and at the silver swirling lines that traveled along his body. The masters had told him how to use his power, and he'd done as he'd been bidden. But his skin was still on fire, and his brands burned, sending shards of pain down his body, until he had to grit his teeth against a cry of agony.

He could hear slipper covered feet moving on the floor near him, and he lifted his head and brushed his hair out of his face. "Tell me…" he croaked with a voice still raw from his screams of pain. "Tell me who I am."

Out of all of the masters, Corypheus was the only one that the slave knew by name, and that had been because he had been called so by another. He glanced down at the slave, and gave him a malevolent smile. "You are a tool. Rejoice that you are here to see this glorious moment."

The slave trembled in rage. "I had been given your word. Tell me my name."

Corypheus laughed, and the sound was hollow. "I do not make promises to slaves. Now be silent, and witness our triumph."

The slave could not take in where they were. It was as if his mind rebelled when it tried to focus on something. He could make out shapes enough to see that they were in some sort of structure, but beyond that, his vision was filled with gold. Blood began to drip out of his nose, and he glanced away, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

It was because he had shut his eyes that he did not see what happened next.

Screams filled the air, terrible screams that sounded like the death of millions in a single second. The slave slammed his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.

It did not matter.

Just when he thought he would go insane from the cries, the sound abruptly stopped. lThe silence was deafening, and the slave at first thought that he had lost his hearing. It wasn't until he dropped his hands away, that he knew otherwise.

"What to do with him…" a voice muttered.

"He has entered where he should not. His punishment will be the same as the rest," another answered.

The slave opened his eyes, turning his head this way and that as he tried to discern where the voices were coming from. No one was there, not even the masters. He was alone.

"But it wasn't his fault," the first voice protested.

"No, he was only the architect of their downfall. An unwitting one, but he was with them, just the same. He cannot be allowed to roam free."

"Very well then… An unwitting architect he is."

The slave knew no more.

* * *

_Arlathan, present day._

Fenris led Anders back to the others. Morrigan and Aedan were arguing, and didn't notice their return.

"We're just going to give her what she wants," Aedan said.

"If we cannot have one without the other, than that is the price I am willing to make," Morrigan shot back. "I thought better of you, Aedan. I have searched for years for another way, and this is all I have been able to come up with."

"You're asking me to make an impossible choice, Morrigan."

Anders cleared his throat. "Um… Something wrong?"

Aedan threw up his hands in frustration. "Thank the Maker. Maybe you can talk some sense into her, because I'm through with this."

"Me?" Anders pointed to himself.

"Well, you and Fenris," Aedan clarified.

"What does she wish of us?" Fenris said slowly. If it was something that made even Aedan hedge, then Fenris was sure he wasn't going to like it.

"I need Urthimiel separated from my son and sent back into the Fade where he belongs," Morrigan said. "To do that, I will need Arlathan freed from its prison."

"And what does this have to do with us?" Fenris' hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Time is stagnant here," Morrigan explained. "The creatures that had been trapped here when Tevinter attacked do not die. I know the tales say that the elvhen took them from the world, but that is not so. Only some of them were trapped. My son and I do not age. Even the taint within me has never progressed very far."

"Wait," Aedan said. "You're tainted?"

"Don't be foolish," Morrigan chided. "Of course I am. This place is set partially apart from the rest of the world and time. All around us, you have the Blight pouring into the Deep Roads—I believe the barrier around Arlathan is doing it. I could only protect Aedan, but not myself. It does not matter-I will join your stupid wardens, and be on my way once this is over."

"I reiterate," Fenris said through gritted teeth. "What does this have to do with us?"

"I need you to help take down the barrier and lift Arlathan from its prison. The lyrium brands under your skin are the only thing that can do it. Once done, Anders and I will enter the Fade and part Urthemiel from Aedan."

"When the elvhen awaken, we can ask them how the Blight was started," the Architect said. "They might be able to give me that answers that I seek."

"Or they could kill us all," Anders said. "They might not take to being awaken very well."

"And there is no other way to save the boy?" Fenris asked. He began to pace in front of Morrigan, his fingers tapping on his hip. "we will be giving Flemeth something that she desires. She has set her trap very neatly."

"Yes, she has," Morrigan agreed. "And there is no other way. Aedan has told me of what you did in order to free Anders. I seek the same for my son. It won't work if time is halted. It's why I have never attempted it before. I was there when Aedan sent Wynne into the Fade to save another boy from a possession."

Fenris stopped and opened his mouth to deny her, when he caught sight of Aedan. The boy was still sleeping, but this time he was in Merrill's lap. He was innocent in all of this, and Fenris could not punish him for that.

"Fine," he said flatly. "I can only hope we do not regret this."

"Hold on a moment," Carver said. "If time is stagnant here, then does that mean it moves slower or quicker than outside the barrier?"

"Both and neither," the Architect replied. "It is like the Fade in that regard. Days could pass outside the barrier and it could only seem like hours to us."

"You are telling us that time is moving on at a different rate, yes?" Zevran asked.

"Exactly," Morrigan gave Zevran a surprised look. "Why you bother acting the idiot most of the time, I will never know. In the time you have been here, it could either be seconds outside the barrier, or days. You will not know until you leave."


	20. Chapter 20

Carver wasn't a warden.

He didn't see himself as one—how could he? He had only survived the Joining a mere few hours ago, or days-or years. Fuck, he hated this. The others were ignoring the obvious, and it was going to be up to him to do his duty and see it out. The mages and the witch were certainly not going to see reason. Merrill had always been blind when it had come to the darker side of magic. He'd even once loved that about her—that naivety.

She'd always been so innocent, so earnest in what she was doing, even if it was the wrong thing. Her drive to prove her clan wrong about her had drawn him in. He had understood it, and had felt that same drive almost every day of his life. He'd known what it was to be marginalized. But when she had left, Carver had begun to see that his love for her had not been what he'd thought it was. When she'd entered the Gallows, Carver had made it his mission to look out for her, and made sure that she did nothing that would cause the templars to want to kill her or make her Tranquil.

That had been just brilliant. Not only had she not needed his help, she's laughed and hugged him when he had told her that he loved her. She honestly had never thought of him that way, and it hadn't occurred to her that he meant anything more than a friend.

That had been a blow to his pride.

What had happened to he and Fenris, though, that was on Carver, and he knew it. He had known that Fenris would see him as nothing more than a friend and one time lover, but he had secretly hoped otherwise. When Fenris had disappeared with Anders, well… that had told Carver all he'd needed to know. He and Fenris were still friends, and had written to each other frequently through the years, but it was different now. There was a barrier between them, and his name was Anders. Not that the mage cared if Fenris and Carver still spoke, but Carver could feel all the things that Fenris didn't say anymore, and that Carver was sure he was telling Anders. Their little club of two had been dissolved without fanfare or warning. Just one day… gone.

All right, so Carver could admit to himself that he was a bit lonely and pathetic, but he would be damned if he ever said as much to another.

Carver drew his sword and rested the tip on the floor, his hands folded over the pommel. Aedan wasn't going to like what he had to say either. Fuck him. Carver knew the dangers of what they were about to attempt better than they thought.

He cleared his throat loud enough to garner everyone's attention. "I think we're missing something crucial."

The mages had been spreading out candles, and Morrigan had been busy drawing lines into the stone with charcoal when they stopped. "I don't think a templar should be speaking of things he has no knowledge of," Morrigan said. "In fact, it would be best if you said nothing at all."

Carver didn't miss the way she refused to meet his eyes. _She knows…_ he thought. _She knows what I'm going to say._

He continued on as if she hadn't said a word. "Someone needs to watch over the mages and the boy while they're in the Fade. In case—"

"Stop!" Morrigan straightened and clenched her hand, crushing the charcoal in her fist. "Do not dare to speak further. It will not be necessary."

Carver's lips thinned in anger. "You're lying, and you're only going to make this harder than it needs to be."

"What is talking about?" Merrill asked. "Chris, what are they talking about?"

Christopher's eyes darted back and forth between Morrigan and Carver. "I… Shit…"

"He means to take up his duty as a templar and watch over the ones that will be in the Fade," Fenris said. He crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes in rage at Carver. Carver returned the stare, and didn't flinch. Let Fenris be angry with him for this. He would do the same in Carver's place, and the elf knew it.

Anders shook his head. "No. No, no, no. You aren't doing that. I've already experienced a templar holding a sword to my throat while they put a demon inside me. I'm not going to stand for it a second time."

Carver held his ground. "This isn't up for debate. If something goes wrong, I'm going to take action. You can't expect me to stand idly by. I've stood vigil at my fair share of Harrowings, and I've had to do my duty more times than I can count. This is no different."

"He's just a boy!" Anders pointed at Aedan. "You would seriously behead a boy if we fail, or me? What in the Void, Carver? Did the Joining rattle your mind?"

"No, in fact, it has made things crystal clear." Carver's jaw set in stubborn lines. "If you wardens will not watch over yourselves, then I will do it for you. Some of you might mock the Chantry and the templars, but I know what is right. Allowing something to escape using one of you is not it. You are going to be playing with magic that might have started the fucking Blights, and yet you call my intelligence into question when I point that out? I'm use to not being listened to by now-by all of you, and by my own family-and frankly, I don't give a fuck anymore. Do what you wish, but don't tell me I cannot stand guard, and do the hard thing when none of you are willing to face it."

With each word Carver's voice rose, until it echoed loudly in the massive chamber. When he was done, no one would meet his eyes, not even Fenris. They knew he was speaking nothing but the truth. Maker, help him, how did the Grey Wardens survive for so long doing such reckless things? He gave himself a mental shake of the head. That was the point-they didn't. Shit… What had he gotten himself into?

Aedan had been quiet while Carver had spoken, and Carver glanced over at him. The two men stared each other down, and Carver fought not to quail under the First Warden's gaze. A wild thought raced across his mind, and made his resolve falter.

_Aedan Cousland killed an Archdemon, and I just threatened to behead his kid. Oh, shit..._

"I'll stand with you," Aedan finally said. "You do not touch Aedan, understood?"

Carver nodded and breathed a mental sigh of relief, one that lasted only for a few seconds when Fenris walked up to him. Carver steeled himself as the elf approached and stopped in front of him.

"And you will not touch Anders." Fenris' voice was so quiet, that Carver had to strain to hear him. But he couldn't miss the deadly intent behind those words. "I promised Anders that I would never allow him to be taken by a demon again. It is not your right to see to him, but mine."

"Could you do it?" Carver asked, and his eyes bored into Fenris'. "Ask yourself honestly. Could you do it?"

Fenris didn't even blink. "Yes," he said flatly. "I won't have Anders suffering. He knows that and expects it of me. If he returns possessed and there is no way to separate him and the demon, or if he comes back Tranquil, then I will take care of him."

Fenris stood so close to Carver, that he blocked Carver from the view of the others. For a moment, Carver's face turned wistful. "So that's what it's like to be loved by you. I have always wondered…"

Fenris looked taken aback. "Carver… I didn't kno—"

"Don't," Carver whispered. "Don't pity me. You know I hate that."

Nodding, Fenris turned and walked back to Merrill. Carver let out a breath and closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself. Fuck… He hadn't meant to say that. Could he possibly be any more pathetic?

* * *

Anders watched as Fenris and Carver spoke. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and to be entirely honest, he was really trying. Whereas Fenris could become outwardly jealous, Anders was a bit more internal. He knew he shouldn't begrudge their friendship-after all Carver was there first—and he didn't, not really. But there were still some residual jealousy from years before that he hadn't quite worked through yet. He had been acutely aware when he had been living in Kirkwall, just how close Fenris and Carver had been. Now that he knew they had fucked at least once, bringing his worst imaginings to life, things had become a bit harder.

_Get over yourself, Anders_ , he told himself. _Fenris is allowed to have fucked people before you. He's also allowed to still be friends with him. You're the one he came across Thedas to save._ _Besides, it's lovable, grumpy Carver. You know they more than likely got drunk every night, and complained about mages until the wee hours of the morning. I wonder if they had a brood off who would win._ He glanced at Fenris as the elf walked away, then back to Carver. _It was probably a tie. Now I think Carver would win._

* * *

Fenris climbed yet more stairs and paused, glancing down below him. The others were in their places on the ground floor, and each one of them had their heads craned back to watch his progress. Before Fenris had placed even one foot on the first stair, he had grabbed Anders by the back of the head, and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He hadn't cared who was watching them. Anders' arms had wrapped around Fenris' waist, and pulled the elf close as the kiss had deepened. They each had put everything into that kiss, telling the other to be careful, and to come out at the end of this alive.

Fenris turned away from Anders' worried stare and continued his climb. This building was at the center of the city, and where the elvhen had kept most of their knowledge. The carved mural that stretched across the ceiling was made out of a large block of lyrium. Morrigan had told him that she thought if he could tap into it, he might find a way to raise the city and bring down the barrier.

How exactly that was going to work, was up for debate.

He'd had only a brief moment to see his sister before it was time to begin. She had changed so much in the years she'd been gone. The taint had spread through her body, and Fenris hadn't recognized her at first. How long would it be before she became like Utha? Fenris clenched his hands into fists and thrust the thought away. One thing at a time.

The higher he rose up the stairs, the more cluttered they became. At times he had to pause and move piles of scrolls out of the way before he could continue on. He didn't stop on any of the floors that the stairs led to, instead he climbed up the winding staircase, and tried to not look at the elvhen standing against the walls.

Morrigan had been right-there were hundreds of them here. Every one of them were frozen still, and Fenris kept expecting one to open their lyrium dust covered eyelids and reach out for him.

Fenris didn't know how long it had taken him to reach the top-there was no way to judge. When he glanced back down, he could barely make out the others below, and for a moment, he felt dizzy. There were no rails on the staircase or on any of the upper floors. If he fell, he would be dead instantly.

The carved and painted mural that could be seen so easily below was too large to make out up close. Fenris tilted his head back, and tried to make out any of the scene he had noticed before. But this close, the battling figures became huge blobs of color.

Taking a deep breath, Fenris sank down to the floor and crossed his legs. He closed his eyes and thought of what he was about to do, and what it would mean if they succeeded. Arlathan was in Tevinter. If the city rose from the earth once more, and the elvhen awakened, would they thank the wardens for doing it? Or would they see them as nothing more than _shemlen_ , who had interfered where they shouldn't?

But now that he was here, now that he was on the cusp of it all, Fenris felt calm. Maybe it was because when he really thought about it, he knew they were doing the right thing. If nothing else, Aedan couldn't survive as he was, an eternal toddler. But neither could he survive against the soul of an Archdemon. No matter his misgivings about anything else, Fenris knew that he had to help the boy. He couldn't be the monster Fenris had once thought he was, and leave him to his fate.

Fenris brought Anders' image up in his mind, and he smiled. Not one of those small smiles he gave others, but a true smile that only Anders ever brought out in him. "I love you," Fenris whispered.

And then his brands flashed to life.

* * *

When it happened, none of them were prepared for it.

The ground under them heaved, and Anders toppled to the floor. There was a great rumbling as the building shook. Aedan began wailing in his mother's arms, and Morrigan rocked him back and forth, rubbing her hand on his back over and over.

Then the light spells went out.

It should have been pitch black in the building, but above them, the carved mural glowed with an inner blue fire. The gods of the elvhen seemed to writhe as they clashed with their foe. Anders scrambled to his feet, only to be knocked back to the floor again, and slammed his hip on the hard stone.

"Fenris!" he screamed. Oh, Maker, he needed to stop him, he needed to stop this. He got to his feet and only made it a few steps towards the stairs when someone grabbed his ankle. Anders looked down to see Christopher on the floor with the others, his fingers clasped tightly on Anders.

"You can't stop it now," Christopher yelled above the din. "I'm sorry, Anders. We need to be ready to help the boy. Don't let this be for nothing."

Anders wrenched his foot away and fell once more. He closed his eyes, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids as tears seeped out. "Fenris…" he murmured.

* * *

Fenris was in Arlathan, but he was not at the same time. He sat in the same spot he had been when he had made his push into the Fade, but the sun shone here, sending light through the lyrium mural.

He was also surrounded.

Elvhen of various shapes and gender stood around Fenris, some of them with weapons drawn. One of them—a male with long dark hair—barked something at him.

"I don't understand you," Fenris said slowly. His gauntlets cut into his palms from the effort of maintaining his power. When he had first used his lyrium brands, he'd felt nothing until he had begun to push. It had felt different from touching the Fade, and it had startled him at first. But there was something there, something not of the Fade, but very much like it. It was that that Fenris had stepped through, only to find he was not alone.

Fenris tried again, only this time in Arcanum. "I don't understand you."

That got their attention. More weapons were drawn, and the elvhen that had spoken to him, peeled back his lips in a snarl. "Magister pet," he replied back in Arcanum. "You are not welcome here."

"I am no pet," Fenris growled. "And I go where I please." It didn't escape Fenris' notice that more than a few of the elvhen had lyrium tattoos like his. It sent a shiver up his spine as he returned the dark haired one's glare.

"You are not one of us," another elvhen said. This time it was a woman with bright red hair that reminded Fenris of his sister's. Unlike the male that had spoken, she wore no armor, and was instead dressed in a set of deep green robes. "We are all that is left of our kind, and your markings are a mockery of the servants of Fen'Harel."

"You are foolish." Fenris' smile was condescending. "You are weak, and cowardly. Tevinter is shell of its former self, yet your descendants still suffer under their tyranny. Either you are cowards and keep yourselves away from the world on purpose, or you are fools, because you are trapped here."

"And I can smell mortality on you," the woman said, neither confirming nor denying Fenris' assertions. "What brings one with such a short life here? How did you come to this place?"

The others seemed to hang on her every word, and Fenris took her for some sort of leader. "How did I come here?" He flipped his arms over so that they could see his markings through his armor, reminding her that she knew very well how he got there. "A Tevinter magister did this to me. He wished to physically enter the Fade, and was going to use me to do it. I escaped, and eventually killed him. It was your magic that allowed him to do this. The pain was so great that it stole my memories from me, it stole my life." Fenris' tone had become accusatory. "The Blights started because of your magic. Tens of thousands die each time one of the old gods rises. Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't you stop the magisters from going into the Golden City?" He had screamed out the last, and his rage had been palatable in every word. He hadn't realized until this very moment how much the elvhen were to blame for so much suffering, and how angry he was at them.

"Elves are enslaved and marginalized all over Thedas. Yet here you are, and you do not feel the pain of it."

The woman looked taken aback, and she motioned with her hand. Weapons were lowered and sheathed, as she sank down to the floor in front of Fenris. "Tell me. Tell me of it. Tell me of the suffering we have created. Tell me of what we have done."

* * *

The world had exploded into chaos.

It was the only way Anders could describe it—chaos. One moment the rumbling had stopped, and the next…

Every still elvhen in the building lurched to life, some of them flashing brightly with lyrium brands. More than a few of them fell to their hands and knees on the floor, trembling from the shock of once more being in their bodies after so long. Anders realized that preserving their bodies had been a part of the spell that had created the barrier all along. They hadn't just tried to save their city-they had tried to save themselves.

"Get ready!" Morrigan yelled. Anders stumbled to his feet, but his eyes were cast upwards, searching for any sign of Fenris.

"Anders!" Christopher grabbed him by the shoulders, and forced the other mage to look at him. "We need to be ready. Fenris is… He's one of the strongest people I've ever met. He's doing his part, now it's your turn."

Anders had never thought he would ever hear Christopher saying something like that about Fenris, and it jolted him out of the fear that clutched at him. He nodded and turned towards the others. Morrigan and Merrill were already in place. Morrigan lay on the floor next to her son, while Merrill sat just outside the circle of unlit candles around them. Anders crossed over to them, and was careful not to step on any of the symbols that Morrigan had set down. Zevran, Aedan and Carver stood behind Merrill and the Architect, while Seranni, Utha, and Varania sat nearby. When Christopher walked over to take his place opposite of Merrill, Carver moved behind him.

Anders sank to the floor next to Morrigan, and he stared up at the flashing mural. They were going to have one shot at this. Anders had asked Morrigan why they couldn't just take her and Aedan out of the city, and the answer had been horrifying.

They were in the Deep Roads, surrounded by darkspawn. Morrigan had barely been able to bring Aedan though the first time. She'd had to shield him from the effects of the taint, and the darkspawn that had come swarming after her.

The Archdemon in Aedan was weak and small, but it still called to the darkspawn. The barrier kept them trapped, but it also had kept them safe.

Magic swirled in the room as the elvhen collected themselves and began to chant. The mural above him flared even brighter, and Anders had to squeeze his eyes shut, as the glow from the lyrium became all encompassing. He could even see its brightness behind his eyelids, and he slapped the back of his hand over his eyes to shield himself.

The ground under him heaved, and there was a horrible crack, as the heavy earth and stone above them splintered and gave way. The power in the room became a tangible thing, almost suffocating, and Anders had the terrifying thought that they had made a mistake, and they were going to be buried alive, forever entombed under the ruins of the city and rock. The hand over his face began to tremble in his fear, and he could hear young Aedan screaming for his mother in terror.

Magic licked over Anders' skin as the elvhen's chanting reached a crescendo. Maker, he had never felt anything this powerful before in his life. No wonder the magisters had become jealous of the elvhen. If this was even a taste of what they were capable of, then Anders could understand how the power hungry magisters would have even wanted a fraction of this.

It seemed to go on forever, the sound of the earth tearing and giving way to the rising city, as the magic collected, amplified by the lyrium embedded into every building in the city. Too many times Anders thought they were going to die. Too many times his empty hand that lay on the floor, clenched and wished for Fenris' hand in his own, and his comforting presence.

Then it stopped.

But Anders was given no time to open his eyes and collect himself, before his consciousness was sent hurdling into the Fade.

* * *

Fenris lay gasping on the floor as he stared wild eyed at the sun drenched mural above him. The elvhen had needed him to be their conduit between worlds. They had used him as a waypoint, sending themselves back into the waking world.

Blood dripped from his nose, and pooled on the floor below him. He couldn't stop trembling. It had felt like it had when he had inadvertently opened the doorway to the Black City the first time. As if everything that made him Fenris, was being torn apart and splintered. For a brief moment, or what could have been days, Fenris had become one with the stream of lyrium that connected the Fade to other worlds.

And he hadn't been alone.

Fenris sucked in a gasping breath, and he realized he'd been holding the air in his lungs as his mind rebelled against what he had done. Never again-he would never do something like that again. Fenris didn't feel whole, and he couldn't shake the sense of violation.

When he had finished telling the elvhen what she wanted to know, she had introduced herself as Aelwen. She also had conferred upon herself the title of queen. She had explained to Fenris that wasn't entirely accurate, but it would stand until later. Since none of the elvhen had batted an eye at her pronouncement, Fenris took it to be the truth.

She had quickly explained what had needed to be done, and the part Fenris would have to play. She'd even warned him that it would not be pleasant.

Not be pleasant… She had not even come close to describing how it would feel.

When Fenris had slammed back into his body, his brain at first had refused to believe in anything as tangible as the solid floor under him. It hadn't helped that the building had begun to rumble, and the earth above him roared and cracked. Logically, he knew he was in shock, but he would be damned if that thought mattered at all.

Fenris' lips moved, but no sound escaped his throat. _Anders…  
_

* * *

Anders sighed. Of course he was alone, why wouldn't he be? He was only in the Fade after all, where nothing ever seemed to go right. Never mind that he was back in the tower at Calenhad Lake—or what passed for it. The Black City in the skyline when he looked out the window was a bit of a giveaway.

"Anders?"

All right, maybe not completely alone.

Anders rolled his eyes and turned towards the voice. He was in a little used room that he use to sneak off to when he'd been younger.

Dusty crates with old books of bad Antivan poetry?

Check.

Heavy cloth covering one of the crates that he used to use as a cushion on the floor?

Check.

Anders lifted the cloth. Bottle of stashed elfroot extract?

Check and check.

He sighed again. "Karl… Really? You're going to try and tempt me with Karl? Or is this where you play on my guilt? Why didn't you send me back in solitary? Or even when I thought Fenris had died? You do realize I'm not a young mage going through my Harrowing, correct? I'm older, crankier, and I don't have time for these games. Let me save you the trouble, and tell you my answer is going to be no, to whatever you're offering."

The demon disguised as Karl frowned. "Don't you want to hear my offer?"

"No." Anders crossed his arms. "You're young, aren't you? And why am I even bothering to talk to you?"

"Not even to know where the boy is?" The demon gave Anders a malicious grin, and it looked out of place on Karl's normally gentle face.

"No."

"You have brought something here that the First will be very angry to see. I think I will send you to the boy anyway, just to see your soul get flung into the Void." The demon raised its arms, and Anders braced himself. The room dissolved, melting from the ceiling down as the Fade rearranged itself around him.

Anders found himself on a plateau. The Black City seemed closer now, but still very much out of reach. Anders shivered and turned, his heart seizing when he saw that the demon had kept its promise.

Morrigan stood on the edge of the plateau with Aedan hiding behind her legs. In front of her stood one of the most beautiful creatures Anders had ever seen. There wasn't the slightest imperfection in him. Not in his tall height, nor in the lean muscles on his naked, olive skinned body. His face was even perfect in its symmetry. Not a single strand of his waist length golden hair was out of place, falling in gently cascading waves. Normally, Anders would have laughed to see someone so utterly perfect,-because no one really was-but he was so struck by the man's beauty that he was rendered speechless.

Urthemiel, the God of Beauty.

When Anders blinked, Urthemiel's body shifted. His skin became alabaster while his hair fell shorter than it had a few moments before, gleaming darkly. Anders blinked again, this time on purpose, and Urthemiel's shoulders were suddenly broader, and he was more heavily muscled. Anders thought that he could spend the rest of eternity blinking like that, and Urthemiel would never run out of ways to appear beautiful and pleasing. Anders didn't even think it was voluntary on the god's part.

At least, he had appeared beautiful, until he opened his mouth. He snarled something in a language that Anders didn't understand, and gestured at Aedan. Morrigan spouted something back, and that only seemed to make the god angrier.

Morrigan finally noticed his presence. "So you deigned to show up. He is refusing to leave Aedan. He says that he is not supposed to be here, and that we all must go. I have explained to him that we will leave, but he is not going to come with us."

"A demon decided he wanted to play 'Tempt the Mage' with me." Anders said. "The demon I met said that the First would not like that he's here. Ask him why."

"Yes, I will happily play translator for the Old God. They really do not teach you much in the Circle, do they?"

Anders ignored her attempt to bait him. It was because she was frightened for her son, and it had nothing to do with him. Anders should know-he did it all the time. Besides, how could he argue when she was right?

Urthemiel looked taken aback, and he spoke rapid fire to Morrigan, waving his arms towards the Black City. Morrigan sucked in a breath and turned startled eyes on Anders. "He says that he and his brothers and sisters are not allowed in the Fade. He says they had been cast out long ago, and were not to return."

"What? Why would he be…" Anders trailed off as realization dawned. A forgotten piece of the Chant of Light came back to him in a rush. "'The Old Gods will call to you. From their ancient prisons they will sing. Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts. On blackened wings does deceit take flight. The first of my children, lost to the night.' The Canticle of Silence."

Morrigan gave Anders a small smile. "Not so uneducated then. You know one of the Dissonant Verses. It is one of many that have been struck from the official chant."

"Morrigan…" Anders said carefully. "I think you were right. Why were the Old Gods imprisoned? Why can't he return to the Fade? I think… That mural… I think that the elvhen Creators and the Old Gods were enemies. I think… I think we've made a horrible mistake in coming here."

"No," Morrigan hissed. "Saving my son is not a mistake. I don't care the price, I will set him free."

Anders opened his mouth to reply when the plateau shifted under his feet. He was getting a little tired of not being able to stand on stable ground. The ground exploded, and Anders saw something he had thought never to witness again. Justice drew up from a great crack in the plateau, his armor and sword blazing with ethereal fire.

"Anders," Justice said, and his voice resonated throughout the Fade. "Why have you come here, and why have you brought one of the Enemies of Old with you?"

Anders said the first words that popped into his head. "Shit! Justice you're huge. What happened to you?" He blinked and snapped his mouth shut. _That was brilliant, just brilliant, Anders. Some all-knowing mage you are._

But Justice took it in stride, and Anders saw a little bit of his old friend in him. "I have remembered my purpose since you and I were parted. I had forgotten it long ago, and had been only a fraction of what I once was. Returning me to Hope's side has given me myself back. She is as she will always be, and her hope let's her not forget when all others have."

Before Anders could answer, Justice turned to Urthemiel. The god had his hands clenched at his sides, and his shoulders were fraught with tension. "You were imprisoned for your crimes, for your whispered lies. Your beauty hides your deceitful heart, and you were not to return."

To Anders' surprise, Urthemiel answered him back, and Anders could understand him. "My lies? I wasn't the one who tricked the others and locked us away. So many of my brothers and sisters have had their sleep disturbed, and then been driven mad before they were slain. Have we not been punished enough for our crimes? The Father made us what we are, all of us that are of the First, and yet we are punished for being what he created us to be."

"We were punished because we did not create the way he wished us to," Justice replied. "He gave us the Fade to do with as we willed, but we did nothing with it. We grew jealous of the Second Born, and set ourselves up as gods. Your brothers and sisters took on the form of dragons and whispered to man, deceiving them. How can I allow you to exist? How can I allow you to go free? Your words are poison and your heart is tainted with envy."

Urthemiel screamed in rage, and his form shifted, twisting into that of a massive dragon. The dragon roared at Justice in challenge, and the spirit brandished his sword.

"Go!" Justice told Anders. "The boy will be freed."

"But what about you?" Anders cried. He couldn't just leave him to face Urthemiel alone. No matter what had happened in the end, he and Justice were friends.

"Our battle is an old one, my friend," Justice reassured him. "Beauty has been twisted with Envy and Pride. He needs to be reminded as I once needed to be, who and what he is. Go." He waved his hand at Anders, Morrigan and Aedan, and Anders felt the Fade fall away from under him. Before he tripped out of sight, Anders heard Justice's voice one more time.

"You are to know, that she has been listening."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... someone mentioned wanting to see an Aedan/Zev scene. And then this happened. ^_^ I've been meaning to do this for a while now.
> 
> Also, I apologize profusely if I butchered the Italian language.

_Three days outside of Denerim, the Fifth Blight._

Aedan Cousland felt like such a fool. He watched Alistair and Leliana as they sat by the fire at camp. He was concealed from them from his position just out of sight in the woods. Night had fallen, and the moon was just a sliver in the sky, illuminating little, and shrouding Aedan in shadows.

He couldn't seem to help himself anymore, this need he had to watch Alistair when his fellow warden wasn't looking. Not only was it pathetic and fruitless, but it was a dangerous distraction that Aedan could ill afford.

Leliana said something to Alistair that Aedan couldn't quite make out, and Alistair threw back his head and laughed. Aedan closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him as he smiled. Alistair's laugh was like that, something that you wanted to hear because it made you grin. Alistair was so free with his smiles, that Aedan often feared it would lead to his downfall.

Fuck… Aedan was so in love with the man.

Aedan didn't know when it had started, or how it had happened. Somewhere between grieving over Duncan's death, and running from one end of Ferelden to another, Aedan had found himself watching Alistair with hungry eyes.

His placed his hand on the trunk of the tree that he was partially hiding behind, and welcomed the bite of pain as the bark dug into his palm. This wasn't like him. Never in his wildest imaginings, did he ever think he would want someone that didn't have the slightest inclination to sleep with men.

Aedan had seen how it was for the poor bastards that would fall in love with straight men. He had sworn to himself that he would never make that same mistake. It would only end badly and in heartbreak. He had spent years pretending to be attracted to women for his family, at first lying to himself, and then to others. It wasn't until his mother had caught him in the larder with a visiting arl's servant, that the truth had finally come out.

And he had found out he needn't have bothered lying to them in the first place. His family loved him. Besides, Fergus had been the heir, and Fergus had been already was married and had a child of his own. Aedan had had free rein to do as he pleased, and he had made sure that he had done nothing _but_ what he'd pleased.

Maybe that was the problem-Alistair was unattainable, and Aedan had never encountered that before. He had been a rich, handsome second son. Men tripped over themselves and each other to suck his cock. He could admit now, after everything that had happened since Howe's betrayal, that he had been naïve and selfish.

In the past few months, he had experienced life in ways he'd never thought to before. He'd seen war and slaughter. He'd known cold, hunger, and fear. He had scars on his body now, scars that might never fade. The him from a few months ago had acted as if the world was for his taking, and take he had. He now knew what it was like to want someone, and to have them not pay attention to that need in the slightest. How fucking cruel he'd been once. Granted, some of the men he'd slept with and spurned had known exactly what they were getting into with him. But not all of them… Maker, help him, not all of them.

Now he was becoming maudlin—perfect.

He just had to watch himself around Alistair, and pray that he didn't do anything stupid to make this trip awkward, on top of dangerous.

He turned and got three steps into the woods when he saw him. Aedan hands clenched at his sides, and he narrowed his eyes at the barely perceptible Crow in front of him. "Spying on me, Zevran?" he asked.

"Spying on someone, that is spying on someone, strange that. But here we are." Aedan saw a flash of teeth as Zevran smiled. "And we are friends, yes? So you can call me Zev."

"So you've told me before." Aedan moved passed the assassin, and went deeper into the woods, careful to keep the light of the campfire in his periphery so he wouldn't lose his way. He had used the excuse of needing some privacy in the woods to take care of bodily needs, and wanted to come back to camp in the direction he had left.

Bodily needs… Maker, he had them in spades lately.

Aedan could hear Zevran following behind him, and knew that the Crow was purposefully making noise so that that Aedan would be acutely aware that he wasn't going to leave him alone. He ground his teeth in agitation, and quickened his strides.

He wasn't stupid, he knew what Zevran wanted from him. Even if he hadn't been so obvious about it, Aedan would have known. Aedan understood how the game was played, and had once been good at it. There had been a time when he had literally crooked a finger at a man across a crowded ballroom, just to see if it would work. He had ended up bending the red head over a table in a side room—he hadn't even asked his name.

But things were different now—Aedan was different now. And he couldn't shake the thought, that if he gave in and fucked Zevran, that Alistair would know, and he would ruin any chance he might have with the other Grey Warden, no matter how unrealistic that was.

Maker, he was really in deep when it came to Alistair.

"You do understand that not only is he not interested in men, but he is a virgin, yes? A virile man like yourself, needs someone that is… not so pure." Aedan could hear the derision in Zevran's voice. It was faint, and just under the flirtatious tone. "He wouldn't know what to do with you."

Aedan's already fraying temper snapped. He turned and grabbed Zevran by the shoulders, pushing him back hard against a large tree trunk. "And you would?"

Zevran slid his hands up Aedan's broad back, his dexterous fingers tracing over the muscles just under his tunic. "I would. Have I not been making myself clear?" He wrapped first one leg, then the other around Aedan's waist, and lifted himself up until he could reach Aedan's ear. "I want your cock. I want it in my ass, in my mouth, and in my hands." He rolled his hips and ground into Aedan, eliciting a sharp groan from his lips.

Slapping his hands onto the tree trunk on either side of Zevran, Aedan pressed him against the bark, pinning him with his body. "What do you want from me, Zevran? What do you think this is going to accomplish?"

Teeth nipped along Aedan's jawline, and Zevran chuckled low in his throat. "Accomplish? Besides the mind blowing sex I am certain you are capable of? I see you watching him, no? I see the lust in your eyes, and then, I see something more. I am vain enough to want your eyes to be only looking at me that way."

Aedan reared his head back in surprise. "You want me to love you? Bullshit."

"You think me incapable of the emotion, and maybe you are right. What I _do_ know, is that it angers me when I see you pining after someone that will never return your affections, when I am right here." To underline his point, Zevran rocked his hips against Aedan's.

Aedan's fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut as the elf rubbed against his burgeoning erection. He couldn't deny that he found Zevran attractive… All right, more than attractive, the elf was sex wrapped up in a tan and blonde package. At any other time in his life, Aedan would have had Zevran on his back, and his thighs spread the second they had made camp the first night Zevran was with them.

If Aedan was going to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that his unwillingness to sleep with Zevran had little do to with Alistair. It had been months since his family home had been bathed in blood, and Aedan still couldn't get the thought out of his mind, that if only he'd been more observant, if only he hadn't spent that evening fucking a visiting squire, he might have been able to have some sort of advanced warning of what came next. It was as if all his selfishness and debauchery had finally caught up with him, and his family had paid for it with their lives.

While he'd been cock deep in someone's ass, his nephew and sister-in-law had bled out their lives on the floor.

He couldn't make that mistake again. But damn it, Zevran was making it rough to stick to his resolve. Especially with the way he rolled sinuously against Aedan, and moaned softly in his ear. Why couldn't he fuck Zevran if he wanted to? Wasn't he just thinking about how fruitless it his feelings for Alistair were? And it wasn't as if Zevran actually wanted any sort of lasting affection from him. Or did he?

Aedan turned his head, and brushed his lips along Zevran's ear. "I won't ever love you," he warned.

He felt more than heard Zevran's amused chuckle. "How you break this poor elf's heart, _mio caro_. You are not playing the game if you don't at least pretend to love me a little. Where are my sweet words?"

Now it was Aedan's turn to laugh, and it was a deep and low rumble. "You don't want me for sweet words." He balanced himself on one hand against the tree, and grabbed a fist full of Zevran's hair, yanking his head to the side. He sank his teeth into the elf's exposed throat, and was rewarded with Zevran's cry of pain and pleasure. "If you had wanted sweet words, you would have gone elsewhere."

"True," Zevran groaned. His fingers dug into Aedan's back, giving Aedan his own small taste of pain. "It's what attracted me to you, yes? I am not fragile, and you-" He sucked in a sharp breath as Aedan let go of Zevran's hair and gripped his thighs, holding the elf's slight frame to him as he turned and sank down into the dead leaves on the forest floor, sitting with his back to the tree.

Zevran shifted so he was straddling Aedan. He rose up on his knees and brushed his lips along Aedan's. "You are intoxicating. Will you give me what I want, my warden? Will you give me what I have been craving since the first moment I awoke with you standing over me?"

He whispered against Aedan's lips. "Forget your fellow Grey Warden. You need someone that knows what to do with this…" He dropped a hand between them, and traced the outline of Aedan's cloth covered erection. "Big…" He squeezed, and Aedan threw his head back and groaned. "Strong…" Zevran's eyes had become heavy lidded, and he slowly ran his tongue over his lips, as if he were about to take part in a large meal, and he was a starving man. "Cock..."

"Shit, you're shameless," Aedan murmured. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to give Zevran what he wanted, and damn the consequences? Following his cock's lead had almost always gotten him into trouble. But he couldn't seem to muster up the objections he'd had before, when Zev's hand swiftly undid the laces to his leggings. Even the mention of Alistair had only given him a small twinge of guilt.

Zevran tunneled his fingers into Aedan's dark hair, and drew him close. "It's what you like about me, yes?"

"Fuck, yes," Aedan admitted, before he crushed their lips together. He thrust his tongue into Zevran's mouth, spearing his lips open. Their teeth clacked together as the kiss deepened, becoming wild and heated.

Aedan's body jerked when he felt long fingers reach into his leggings, and pull his erection free. He panted into the elf's mouth as Zevran rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading the slick pre-cum that had seeped out. "Maker, I want to fuck you right now."

Zevran reached into one of the many pouches at his waist and pulled out a small vial. He stroked up Aedan's shaft, and squeezed as he held the vial up. "Fortunately for us both, I am prepared, yes?"

"Asshole," Aedan cursed. "You followed me tonight for this, didn't you?"

Zevran flashed him a wicked smile. "I am an eternal optimist when it comes to these things, my warden. And I believe I have already made it clear why I followed you. Do not act so surprised. Besides, I think the time for talk has passed, yes?"

He set the vial on a clear spot on the ground, and slid back off of Aedan's thighs. The dead and brittle leaves crunched as he lay splayed out on his stomach, and draped his upper half on Aedan's legs. He eyed Aedan's erection, and licked his lips again. "You do not disappoint, do you?"

Aedan grabbed the base of his cock with one hand, and gathered up all of Zevran's blonde silky hair with his other, wrapping the strands tightly in his fist. "I try not to. Are you as talented sucking cock with your mouth as you are weaving words?"

Glancing up at Aedan through blonde lashes, Zevran ran his tongue up the length of the warden's shaft. "Better…"

Aedan inhaled sharply through his nose as Zevran opened his mouth, his lips hovering over Aedan's cock, and his breath ghosted over the sensitive flesh. Their eyes locked, and Zevran sank down on Aedan's erection, taking the whole thing in one movement down to the root.

"Oh, fuck…" Aedan shuddered in pleasure. He'd never had anyone that was able to take him all the way in like that so quickly. Maker, it had been too long since he'd been with anyone, and his hand just couldn't compare to what Zevran was doing to him right now. The feel of his wet warm mouth, and the way his throat rippled as he pulled back, agonizingly slow, almost undid Aedan right there.

Zevran's head bobbed up and down on his cock. With each withdrawal, he swiped the flat of his tongue over the head, before sinking back down again.

Never one to be passive during sex, Aedan tightened his grip on Zevran's hair and held him still. The tip of his cock was held tightly between the elf's reddening lips, and Zevran darted his tongue into the slit, gathering up the freely leaking pre-cum.

Aedan's hips rocked slowly at first, in order to gauge that Zevran was truly going to be able to handle what he was about to do. But when the elf did nothing but moan, and the sound reverberated down his shaft, Aedan let loose. His cock shuttled in and out of Zevran's mouth faster and faster, as Aedan fucked his face. Fingers snagged the waistband of his leggings, and on an upstroke, Zevran yanked them down just enough to free his balls.

Fuck, Aedan was about to come already. He was a big man, tall and heavily muscled. He used that to his advantage in his life, intimidating when he needed to, or attracting when he wanted. But the fact was that he'd never had anyone be able to take him the way Zevran was now, allowing him to pump his cock as deep as he wanted to, at the pace he wanted, without fear of hurting his partner. He was so turned on from just the thought alone. Images popped rapid fire in his mind, of what other things he could do with Zevran that he'd been afraid of trying. The possibilities… Shit, he was going to come.

But Zevran had other ideas.

The elf grabbed Aedan just above his sac, and pulled down gently on them, stopping their inexorable climb to his cock. If Aedan had been in his right mind, he could have told Zevran that it wasn't necessary. Alistair had taken him aside months ago, and explained certain facts about warden stamina. He had stammered, blushed, and joked his way through the telling, and at the time, Aedan had thought it had been so endearing.

_Damn it! Don't think about him right now. Just… don't think._

Besides, Zevran would find out soon enough.

* * *

Zevran pulled his head back, and Aedan's cock slipped out of his mouth with a lewd pop. He rose up and straddled Aedan once more, their lips coming together in a searing kiss. At this point, he was normally so sure of himself and graceful, each of his movements meant to seduce. But his fingers fumbled next to Aedan as he searched for the vial of elfroot extract. When he finally found it, he broke away from the kiss, and grabbed Aedan's hand. He pulled the cork free, and frowned slightly when he saw his hands were shaking.

It wasn't just the intense lust and anticipation that was racing through him, he had felt that before, and his hands had never trembled like this. He silently thanked the Maker for it being so dark, and moved quickly to prevent Aedan from seeing too much.

Zevran might preach living openly and honestly, but he was acutely aware that he was also a consummate liar. He wouldn't lie to himself, but he would easily lie to another. Rinna was proof that he was capable of love. In the end, he hadn't trusted in that love enough, and she had paid the price for it. He had promised to never again allow himself to be in a position where he would have his love tested, only to fail.

But what he felt for Aedan…

Zevran had never thought himself a jealous man, but seeing the way Aedan looked at Alistair had woken up something inside him-something ugly. He hadn't lied when he'd told Aedan he wanted him to look only at Zevran that way, but it had nothing to do with vanity. He had made the decision several days ago, that if Aedan would not come to him, despite his many invitations, then Zevran would take matters into his own hands. Zevran had never claimed to not be a selfish creature, and he wanted Aedan with an intensity that frightened him a little. If he could seduce Aedan away from Alistair, and show him that he could give Aedan things that an ex-templar could only ever imagine, then maybe… just maybe…

He forced the thought from his mind, and poured a good amount of the elfroot onto Aedan's fingers, letting it pool in his palm. He replaced the cork in the vial, and set it back on the ground. He stood up, and his hands went to the buckles and ties of his leather pants. Damn this shaking. Aedan's eyes were level with Zevran's fingers, and his gaze shot upwards in astonishment, their eyes meeting. He grabbed the elf's hands, smearing elfroot onto his skin.

"Zev?"

Ah… Zevran had longed to hear Aedan call him that. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him. His hands stopped shaking, and he opened his eyes. "Yes, my warden?"

Aedan let go of him, and his hands sank down to his lap. "Nothing…"

The two men stared at each other in silently, Zevran's hands frozen on the ties of his pants.

 _Il mio amore_ , he thought. _Ah… I do love you…_ The realization and all its implications struck Zevran momentarily dumb. He swallowed heavily, and gave himself a mental shake. Later… He would think on it later, or if he was smart, not at all.

* * *

Any lingering concern that Aedan had about seeing the elf's trembling hands, were wiped away when Zevran opened and lowered his pants. Zevran had been with them for a few months now, and Aedan was starting to understand how the elf thought. He wouldn't talk about anything unless he was ready to, and pressing him only made him irritable, and angry.

Zevran's cock sprang free as he lowered the waistband of his pants. They were in the woods on a dark night, with only a small moon, and the firelight from the camp off in the distance to see by. There was no time for a lengthy exploration of each other, to do so would be foolish. Maybe next time…

 _Next time?_ Aedan thought to himself. Yes… There was going to definitely be a next time, where they would have a soft bed, and more privacy.

Aedan leaned forward and kissed the tip of Zevran's cock. His hands spread across Zevran's ass, and he pulled the assassin closer. Zevran moaned, and braced his hands on the tree trunk above Aedan. Leaves rustled on the forest floor as he spread his legs wider, and his head dropped down between his arms to watch Aedan in the dim light.

A slick middle finger circled around the elf's entrance, as he ran his tongue over the sensitive glans on the underside of Zevran's erection. He felt it twitch, and grow almost impossibly hard against his tongue. Zevran began panting, and he backed up against the finger teasing his ass, telling Aedan without words that he wanted more.

Aedan grinned and complied, pushing his finger inside the elf with a swift motion. He was rewarded when Zevran began cursing in Antivan. At least, if his tone was anything to go by, Aedan thought he was cursing. He pulled his finger free, and reached between Zevran's thighs. As he pressed the heel of his palm against the underside of the elf's sac and perineum, he entered him again, this time at a deeper angle.

" _Cazzo!_ " Zevran shouted. "Fuck!" The elf ground down on his hand, and Aedan watched as a shiny bead of pre-cum escaped the tip of his cock. Aedan caught it on his tongue as the slick liquid slipped down the head. He turned and nipped at Zevran's hipbone, before inserting another finger to join the first. He pushed in and curled his fingers, and when he found what he was looking for, Zevran did not disappoint.

" _Creatore_ , more, my warden. Fuck, more." His accent had deepened, and Aedan could barely understand him as he slipped back into Antivan.

"What was that, Zev?" Aedan asked, his voice a husky growl. He found he liked Zevran undone like this, unable to speak coherently, his mouth open and panting, and his cock twitching with need.

" _Voglio il tuo cazzo_..." Zevran gasped. "I… _voglio_ …" He broke off on a moan, and his hips swiveled, fucking himself on Aedan's fingers. "I want—si!-your cock. Stop teasing me and fuck me."

Aedan chuckled, and pulled his fingers free. "You want my cock?" He slapped Zevran on the ass, and leaned back against the tree. He took his neglected cock in his slick hand, and ran his palm over it, squeezing it at the tip. "Then take it."

Zevran leaned down and grasped Aedan by the shoulders. Aedan clutched at the elf's ass, helping him to ease down and get into position. With his tight leather pants around his knees, he had to plant his feet in front of him on either side of Aedan.

Their eyes locked as Aedan's erection pressed against his entrance. There was resistance at first, and Zevran took his bottom lip between his teeth and hissed in a breath. "So big, my warden… But very much worth it, I think."

The head of Aedan's cock broke through the initial resistance, and Zevran threw his head back and cried out. "Si… This is what I wanted…"

Aedan mouthed at Zevran's throat as the elf slowly took more of his erection. "You ready for a ride, Zev? I want to see your hips dance."

"Mm…" Zevran groaned. He wiggled his hips, and sank down further. "More than ready, my warden."

"Call me Aedan," he whispered against the elf's skin. "Say my name."

"Aedan," the assassin groaned. "My Aedan."

Aedan jerked his hips up and slammed into Zevran, thrusting his cock balls deep into the elf. Zevran's nails dug into his shoulders, and his back arched in pleasure. Using Aedan's shoulders for support, Zevran began to move. His head rolled on his shoulders, and his long blonde hair partially obscured his lust infused face.

Aedan had never seen anything like it before. It was as if Zevran was a desire demon, come to the waking world to tempt him with everything he could ever want in a partner. And the words that tumbled out of his mouth…

"Yes… More… I love your—guh—cock… Fuck me… Fuck me…"

They fell into a rhythm, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh rang in the air. Aedan had told Zevran that he had wanted to see him dance, and the elf had taken him at his word. Zevran leaned back as far as he could go, his grip tightening on Aedan's shoulders, and Aedan watched as his hips swiveled and moved. No, it wasn't just his hips, it was his whole body. He rose and fell, and his body undulated in sinuous lines, a smooth and graceful flow, like rippling water.

"Going to… come…" Zevran groaned. "Going to…" He cried out and his cock jerked, splattering cum across his tunic, his body shaking in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck, that's…" Aedan had never been with anyone who could climax from fucking alone. He gripped Zevran's ass tightly, and held him still as he pumped into him, chasing his own orgasm. It didn't take long, not with the way Zevran was tightening around him. Aedan clenched his teeth and bit back a moan as he came, jerking his hips against the elf as he rode out his climax.

His heart hammering in his chest, Aedan pulled Zevran's head down for a kiss. That had been… more intense than he'd thought it would be. It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

And Aedan already wanted more.

Zevran pulled back and looked at Aedan in astonishment. "You… I do not… I do not understand, why are you still…"

Taking Zevran's bottom lip between his teeth, Aedan chuckled. "There are benefits to being a warden…" He began to thrust slowly. "Do you think you can handle more? I want you on your hands and knees this time."

Zevran brushed Aedan sweat slicked bangs from his forehead. "Ah, my Aedan. You do say the nicest things to me, yes? There are the sweet words I was looking for."


	22. Chapter 22

Fenris crawled to the edge of the landing, his body trembling. He glanced down, searching for Anders. He needed to know that he was all right, and had made it out of the Fade. He spotted Anders' grey and blue robes streaking across the ground floor, and towards the stairs. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief, and flopped over on his back.

Aelwen and several elvhen were talking rapidly to each other nearby. Their language flowed more smoothly than what the dalish spoke. Fenris had never taken the time to learn any of the elvish language, so he couldn't discern if what the elvhen were speaking was vastly different than what the dalish used.

Not that he truly cared.

He needed Anders. He needed to see for himself that the mage was whole. But he couldn't seem to make his body move correctly, as if the short time he had been away from it, his soul had forgotten what it felt like to be confined, and unable to fly free.

Fenris wished he could forget it. But his solid body wasn't the comfort that it should have been. He felt invaded, and exposed. Aelwen crouched down next to him, and peered into his eyes. "You did well. Don't worry, you should feel yourself soon. Carrying so many other souls like you did, is no small feat. Thank you…"

Fenris' voice came out in a broken, raspy whisper. "Just remember your promise to me."

"I will," she assured him. "If the Imperium is as weak as you say it is, then we will crush them, and free our brothers and sisters. We might only number in the tens of thousands now, but we remember the old ways."

"The dalish… The dalish would follow you, and some of the elves in the cities."

Aelwen grinned. "If they wish it. I won't force them to leave their woods and homes in order to go to war. Our fear of losing our immortality has cost us dearly. We won't make the same mistake again."

Fenris closed his eyes. Not only had he exacted a promise from Aelwen that the elvhen would not leave the enslaved elves of Tevinter to rot like the rest of Thedas had, but he had committed himself to the endeavor. The elvhen were more than willing to strike back at the magisters that had torn their civilization apart, Fenris had had to do little in order to nudge them into all-out war.

He could only hope that Anders and Aedan could forgive him when they found out.

Anders' legs were burning by the time he made it to the top most floor. A crowd of elvhen stood in his way, and with his heart in his throat, Anders pushed by them, calling out Fenris' name. The elvhen parted, but a tall warrior with lyrium markings stood in Anders' path. He had long black hair, and his dark eyes glared down at the mage.

"Rhys," a woman's voice called out in Arcanum, "let him pass."

Rhys moved to the side, but not before narrowing his eyes at Anders.

"Sorry," Anders said as he walked by. "I work for a man who's way more intimidating than you are." Fenris was on his back on the floor with his eyes closed. A woman was crouched down next to him, and she moved to the side as Anders approached.

Anders touched Fenris' cheek. "Love? Love, are you all right?"

Fenris opened his eyes, and tried to sit up. Anders wrapped an arm around him, and half slid Fenris into his lap. The elvhen woman touched Anders on the shoulder. "His body and soul are in shock. He needs nothing but time to give both a chance to get reacquainted with each other again."

Anders dropped a kiss to the top of Fenris' head. "What happened, love?"

"I…" Fenris slipped his arms around Anders and held onto him tightly. "I did something I didn't think was possible."

* * *

Morrigan smiled down at her son, and brushed his dark hair from his eyes. He was still asleep, but Morrigan wasn't worried. She sat with her back against a wall apart from the others, with Aedan in her lap. When she had first discovered the Dark Ritual, she hadn't thought that she would ever become attached to the child, or find a mothering instinct. It had hurt her to keep him an eternal toddler, never allowing him to grow up as he should. But she had promised him that she would find a way to free him, no matter what the cost.

She still needed to find out what exactly her mother's intentions were. Morrigan knew her mother well, but she couldn't decipher what it is that she truly wanted. She still believed that Flemeth wanted a return to the old ways, but the maneuvering that she was doing, seemed too intricate for such an endeavor. She would never be able to breathe easy until she was sure that Aedan would be safe.

_The God of Beauty is no longer here, mother_ , she thought. _I have beaten you in this, at least._

A boot scuffed on the floor next to her and she looked up. Her face that had seemed so gentle when she had been looking at Aedan, formed into a scowl. "Is there some reason you seek me out, or do you wish to annoy me?"

Zevran grinned down at her. "Why so mistrustful?"

"Because you rarely do anything without reason, even when you talk to another. So have out with it."

The smile dropped from Zevran's face. "Do you think you can hold him to you, because you gave him a child?"

Ah… Morrigan had wondered when this would happen. When she had seen that Zevran was still with Aedan, after all these years, she had known what would come. "I think nothing of the sort. Lest you forgot, _I_ was not the one who followed him across Thedas. I had even told him not to search for me." She smiled at him, and it lacked any warmth. "Besides, I am not the one who should be accused of trying to manipulate Aedan to keep him by my side. Look to your own self, Assassin, and do not project your own guilt and fears onto me."

Zevran took a step back from her. "What are you accusing me of?" he asked carefully.

"Accuse?" Morrigan laughed softly. "I do not accuse. I state facts. Was it nothing more than mere coincidence that you told Aedan, that Alistair would be crushed by the nobles of Ferelden if he did not harden himself? And was I not there, the very next day, when Aedan told him that people were out for themselves, and that Alistair needed to realize that and not be so naïve. Because of what Aedan said, Alistair happily took the throne, and parted the two of them. That bit of manipulation was very well done of you. If I had not been present for both of those conversations, I would not have noticed it. Tell me, does Aedan still see him? Does your heart not clench in fear that one day, he will realize the things you did to drive them apart?"

There were rare times when Zevran let people see the killer inside him, the assassin that had been bought as a child, and raised to murder. He let Morrigan see it now. "Aedan is First Warden now. We left Ferelden years ago. So no… they do not see each other. If I had to do it again, I would still have done what I needed to in order for him to only see me. I do not regret one moment of it."

"You are a selfish creature," Morrigan said.

"I have never claimed to be otherwise." Zevran shrugged. "We are _all_ selfish creatures, no? And we do what we must to keep those we love by our side."

* * *

The sun had sunk into the sky by the time the elvhen finished convening in the Great Hall. They had come trickling into the building, and filled the many floors. Aelwen had stood in the recessed center of the ground floor, and her voice had been magically augmented, so that all could hear her.

She had spoken in her language, and then in Arcanum so that the wardens could understand her. She had told her people of what Fenris had said. How they had slept for far too long, and that the Imperium had almost crumbled. She had spoken of the elves in the cities, the dalish, and the slaves of Tevinter. She had told them of the Blights that had killed hundreds of thousands over the years. Of the Chantry and what the magic they had taught the humans had become.

She had also talked of a war that was not finished, because the elvhen still lived, and they did not forget.

The only interruption had been from Aedan, who had asked her if the Blights could be stopped, if the taint could be cured. Anders had waited with bated breath as she had considered her answer.

_No._

The curse might have started when the magisters perverted elvhen magic, and gone to the home of the Creators, but it was not the elvhen's doing. Until the curse ran its course, and each of the Old Gods who had lied to the magisters were driven mad, and then defeated to never rise again, the Blights would not stop.

There was nothing they could do.

* * *

"We have wasted our time," Fenris said. The wardens had been shown to rooms in another building. The rooms were sparse, but what it lacked in furniture and size, it made up for in decoration. Every wall in the room was painted intricately with scenes of a forest. Creatures that had long been extinct, roamed lush green woods. One didn't feel like they were in a room, but in the forest and among nature. Even the bed frame was made up of thick, twisting branches that twined upwards towards the ceiling. Green leaves sprouted and formed a thick canopy above the bed.

Fenris had his arms behind his head as he lay on the bed, and stared up at the leaves above him. It had been hours now since he had returned from where the elvhen had trapped themselves, and although the feeling of not being completely in his body had abated, it was still there.

"Considering what we had originally come here for, then yeah, we did." Anders flopped back on the bed next to Fenris. "But did you really think we were going to find a cure for the corruption, and a way to end the Blights here?"

Fenris closed his eyes as he considered the question. "No. But I did have a small hope that maybe…"

"That maybe there could be a retirement plan that didn't involve death by darkspawn?" Anders finished. "Yeah… Me too."

Fenris reached down and linked his fingers with Anders'. "I… I have to tell you something."

"Uh oh," Anders laughed. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You should not." Fenris hesitated. "I was the one that urged the elvhen to attack Minrathous. I also told them I would be there when they set the great towers to burning."

Anders rolled over and braced himself over Fenris. "You did what!"

Their eyes met and locked, Anders' full of shock, and Fenris' filled with determination. "I have a chance to see the magisters pay for their arrogance, for their cruelty, for their sadism. I need to feel the Archon's heart in my hand for daring to take you from me. I need to see the slave auction houses torn down, stone by blighted stone. I want to see the slaves rise up, and occupy the very mansions that they once had been set to cleaning. I need to see the streets of Minrathous run red with blood. And I want you there with me."

Anders sucked in a breath. "Love… How could you? Innocent people will die. War doesn't just kill the wicked. It kills people who have no stake in it as well-people who want no part of it."

"Do you think the magisters care for the plight of the innocent? The magisters are weak compared to what they once were. They have lost much of their stolen magic, and are fighting a war already. The elvhen could crush them, and why shouldn't they?"

Anders closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Fenris'. "Because so many people will die. I had thought… I had thought that you had put this behind you."

"Never," Fenris whispered fiercely. "I will never put it behind me."

* * *

"I refuse," Fenris said as he looked up at the morning sky.

They had been in Arlathan for two days while Fenris recovered, and Aedan, Morrigan, and the Architect talked with Aelwen. The elvhen had been uneasy with the Architect's presence, but on Aelwen's word, had largely ignored him.

Varania had visited Fenris often, and his heart broke at how changed she was. Her speech patterns were different, as if she had to stop and think of how to form words. Her mind was still sharp, but there was a forming disconnect with her body. Still, Fenris had been patient with her, waiting for her to finish her thoughts, and not interrupting her.

Anders shielded his eyes from the sun with ihs hand, and followed Fenris' line of sight. "I don't know. You flew on a dragon already. What's a griffin to you?"

"I did not enjoy it. Hurtling through the air, and relying on the beast carrying you not to allow you to plummet to your death, does not make for a relaxing ride."

Rhys grinned as he joined Anders and Fenris in the main square of Arlathan. "Are the quicklings afraid of flight? If you wish to walk, be my guest. I am going to ride to Weisshaupt, and be there weeks ahead of you."

It had been Rhys that had suggested that they use the griffins that had been trapped in Arlathan to get back to Weisshaupt. They didn't have much time, and the corruption was spreading through Morrigan. She had cast spells to delay it as long as possible, to allow Fenris to recover, and to ply Aelwen with questions, but time was running out, and they had to leave.

They also didn't know how long they had been gone. For the wardens, they had left Weisshaupt three days ago, but according to Morrigan and Aelwen, it could have been much longer in the outside world.

The Architect was staying in Arlathan, to continue his research. He had a new avenue of what might have caused the Blights to research, and Aelwen was allowing him to stay. She had said that the elvhen needed a reminder of what the magisters were capable of.

And Rhys… Rhys was coming with them.

Aelwen wanted someone with the wardens for a time, and close to Minrathous. Aedan had readily agreed to it, and the matter was closed as far as he was concerned.

Fenris disliked Rhys intensely.

He was cocky, brash, and because he was the head warrior of those dedicated to Fen'harel, seemed to think that Fenris should show him some deference.

That was not going to happen.

It make matters worse, the day before, Anders had asked Rhys how the warriors of Fen'harel had managed to survive their branding. Rhys had given him a confused look, and told him that it only hurt a little bit, but when done correctly, there was no lasting damage.

Done correctly…

That had set Fenris off, and even in his slightly weakened state, had gone after Rhys. The two elves had exchanged several blows by the time they had been pulled apart, and Rhys had done nothing but laugh, calling Fenris arrogant and unschooled.

Yes… Because Fenris was the arrogant one here.

But he was correct when it came to being unschooled in what he knew. Unfortunately, the only one who could answer his questions and teach him also happened to be an ass.

Now they were to lure the griffons down, and fly them back to Weisshaupt. Fenris' time in Arlathan just kept getting better.

Merrill and Christopher were predictably excited. Merrill was practically bouncing in place as she pointed up at the sky, and the griffons that were mere specks. "Isn't this wonderful? Weisshaupt will have griffins again. Oh, I wish Hawke and Varric were here to see this."

"Lovely," Fenris muttered. "I can't wait."

Rhys clapped Fenris on the back, and grinned when he scowled at him. "Just make sure you hold onto them tightly when we take off. I wouldn't want to see such a young warrior fall to his death."

* * *

It took them three days to get back to Weisshaupt. Although Anders had been terrified the first few times they had left the ground, he eventually began to have a bit of fun. It was strange to see the world zipping by below him, but as they had soared through the clouds, Anders had started to see the beauty of it.

Fenris had not been so enamored.

So it was with relief when they saw Weisshaupt coming into view. As they cleared the mountains that surrounded the valley Weisshaupt was located in, Anders saw the first plumes of rising smoke. There were hundreds of them, and as they drew closer, he saw why.

"Maker…" Anders' breathed, and his words were snatched away by the wind.

Fenris sat behind him on the griffin saddle. "Weisshaupt is being besieged," he shouted.

But as the griffin began its descent and dipped down, Anders knew that wasn't true. "No! I don't think we are. Look, those are the banners of the King of Ferelden. And look there, I think… is that Kirkwall, and Starkhaven?"

"There's Orzammar, and The Circle of the Magi," Fenris called.

"And the Anderfels…" Maker, the camp city in front of Weisshaupt was enormous. Anders had never seen so many armies gathered in one spot. "What are they doing here?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Fenris said. "It seems that Flemeth's schemes are coming to fruition. They are here for war."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References something in Captured. Which is posted on AO3 ^_^
> 
> In short, Fenris and Anders role played a threesome with Sebastian, when Seb wasn't there. Fenris blindfolded Anders and whispered a kinky threesome story in his ear.

Three months.

They had been gone for three months. A month for everyday they were in Arlathan. In that time, the world had erupted into chaos, and it had all landed right in Aedan Cousland's lap.

They had hurried from the griffon tower, and down to the main hall, Aedan barking for Helena the whole way. What greeted them there had stunned Aedan into silence, Helena's name dying on his lips.

Several pairs of eyes swung his way, and everyone started speaking at once, each trying to be overheard as they clamored for Aedan's attention. Aedan's eyes had darted from one person to another, seeing old friends and new in the sea of people. Companions that he hadn't seen or heard from in years stood before him, Wynne, Oghren, Leliana, Alistair. Even Sten was there, his arms crossed and his face stoic in silence.

Then there were the newer faces of Nathaniel, Sigrun, Velanna, and Denerou. Aedan's heart pounded in his chest as he looked even further into the room. Viscount Hawke and her husband, Prince Vael, and the Kings of Orzammar and the Anderfels, along with Anders' and Fenris' friends from Kirkwall. They were all here, in Weisshaupt, bringing with them more men than Aedan had ever seen gathered din one place.

Aedan took an involuntary step back as realization dawned on him. Flemeth… She was going to shove the responsibility of her actions onto him. It was a tangible thing, the responsibility, and Aedan could already feel it settling on his shoulders. He shook his head and closed his eyes, as if by doing so, he could make it all go away.

But when he opened his eyes, they were still there and still trying to talk to him all at once.

"Shut the fuck up…" Aedan muttered. Then louder. "Shut it!" His voice boomed through the hall, and everyone went instantly silent.

He pointed at them each in turn. "What. In. The. Void. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Fortress! And why is there a fucking army outside my doorstep larger than the one at Ostagar? What the fuck are you people doing!" Aedan's temper was short in the best of times, but now it had frayed and snapped completely. "You know what? Never mind, I don't think I want to know why."

"Now… is that anyway to greet your friends?" Alistair asked. "We could ask the same of you. Some of us got here a month ago, and you were nowhere to be found. No one would tell us anything either."

"Good. If they felt the need to blab to every fucking monarch that stopped by my fortress, then nothing would ever get done."

Alistair's eyebrows rose, and he gave Aedan a crooked grin. "Maker, you're more stubborn than I remember."

"Yeah?" Aedan retorted. "Well I get testy when I come home to see armies camped out on my front lawn."

"Aedan," Wynne said gently. "You need to hear us out."

"Uh huh… And what do I need to hear that will make this intrusion all right?"

"A few months ago, Tevinter made its move… on all of us. Two months ago, the College of Magi was convening to elect a new Grand Enchanter. We were attacked, and half of the mages there were killed. I was lucky to escape with my life."

"Over three months ago," Alistair added. "A magister that had wormed his way into my family's life, attacked me, and threatened to kill my heir. A lot of the King's Guards died that night protecting me. I wrung the truth out of him before I killed him." He shoved his thumb over his shoulder to point behind him at Nate. "He mentioned the wardens. I decided I need to have a little chat with Ferelden's Warden-Commander. It was… enlightening. You've been keeping secrets from your king." He clucked his tongue. "Naughty."

Aedan opened his mouth to reply, but Leliana interrupted him. "A magister spy was found after she attempted to murder the Divine in her sleep. I was sent here… to visit an old friend, yes?"

"Those bastards tried to kill me and my son," King Behlen cried. The dwarf monarch that Aedan had helped put on the throne, had aged in the years since Aedan had last seen him. His beard that had once been golden was now streaked with grey, and his eyes had hardened. "I was at Kal-Sharok when I heard an army was gathering here. Came to see what the fuss was about. Turns out, I'm not the only one that Tevinter has messed with. I'm cutting off the lyrium trade in Tevinter, let's see how they like that."

Hawke pushed passed the others and stopped in front of Aedan. Her eyes were hard, and her lips pressed in a grim line. "They took my son. They took him and told me that I needed to step aside, and let Tevinter do what it wanted."

"Oh, shit…" Anders whispered. "Hawke—"

"Don't, Anders. Unless the next words that come out of your mouth are 'let's go kill the bastards', then I don't want your pity." Cullen came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. Hawke looked more tired than Anders had ever seen her. She also looked angrier.

Anders gave her a weak smile and bowed. "Champion…" Maker, what was Tevinter thinking? They weren't, that was obvious enough. Lesson number one, you don't piss off Hawke. Lesson number two, you don't piss off Mama Hawke, by fucking with her child. Lesson three, when Hawke spoke like that, she was the Champion of Kirkwall, and she meant business.

"Kirkwall is an ally of Starkhaven," Sebastian said. "An attack on Kirkwall, is an attack on Starkhaven. We will not let this slide."

Andraste's smalls, but Anders couldn't look at Sebastian in the face. Damn it. He didn't think he would be seeing Vael so soon. It was like every time he looked at those brilliant blue eyes, Anders could see nothing but how he had looked as the mage had taken his cock down his throat, or at least, how Anders had pictured him looking. Oh, fuck, he was picturing it now. Stop it… Stop it… Not a good time right now.

Aedan looked dazed by the time they were finished. "And where is your lovely wife, Vael? Please tell me you left her back in Starkhaven."

"And why would I go and do a daft thing like that?" Sebastian said with a wry smile. "She's in your dungeons with your Second—Helena I think her name is. They are…talking to three people that showed up a month ago, around the time we did. A Tevinter by the name of Gaius, a half elf, and a man that Liz is certain is the Black Divine."

"Hawke!" Merrill cried. She launched herself at Marian, and gave her a huge hug. "I'm so glad to see you. Oh, you should have been with us. You won't believe where we've been. We flew on griffins, Hawke. It was wonderful."

That's when Aedan lost it completely.

Aedan had immediately turned around, grabbed Morrigan by the arm, and marched her and young Aedan to another room, leaving everyone else behind. Before she had left, Fenris didn't miss the sly glance she threw over her shoulder at Zevran, or the disgruntled look he gave to her in return.

Fenris didn't blame Aedan in the slightest for being angry. He knew how the man felt. Despite what Fenris had intended, he was still doing what Flemeth wanted. This was too neat, too much of a coincidence that everything they had assumed that Flemeth wanted, was coming to pass. It was as if Fenris was being dragged down a roaring river, and even though he could grab onto rocks to slow his path, he couldn't seem to stop it.

And Aedan still didn't know that Fenris and Anders didn't mean to stay. If he was angry now, it was going to be nothing in comparison to what he was going to be when he found out.

Fenris sighed and walked over to Nate. Behind him, he could hear Marian and Carver arguing. She wasn't taking the news that he was a warden now very well.

Zevran sauntered over to Leliana and Alistair. He wrapped his arms around Leliana, and swung her around in a circle while she and Alistair laughed. "Ah! My Orlesian fiery beauty, I have missed you, yes?"

Fenris shook his head and stopped in front of Nate. The Warden-Commander had his arms crossed over his chest, and he gave Fenris a small smile. "I see you were successful in getting Anders back."

"Of course he was," Velanna said. "I for one had no doubts."

"What she means to say," Sigrun said in a stage whisper, "is that she won the betting pool. Not that anyone was betting against you," she said quickly.

"I didn't take part in it," Denerou assured him.

"That's because you hadn't enough coin," Velanna retorted.

Nate rolled his eyes. "As you can see, we were worried about you four. I'm glad none of you were hurt."

"We need to talk," Fenris said quietly. "There's much that has happened."

Nate nodded. "And there is much for us to tell you as well. Maker, we've really stepped into it. The king declared that I had to come with him to Weisshaupt. Things spiraled out of control pretty quickly from there."

"He threatened to dissolve the Grey wardens of Ferelden," Oghren added. "Didn't think the boy had it in him to make such threat like that. Was kinda proud of him for that."

"Yes," Nate said dryly. "Proud enough to start laughing when he said it."

Something inside Fenris clenched painfully, but not unpleasantly. He hadn't known until this very moment how much he had missed the wardens of the Vigil. No matter where he went now, the Vigil was his home, and the wardens there his family. It was a strange thought, and one that made his rash promise to Aelwen all the harder.

Anders was still angry with him, but he was going to come anyway. He didn't like the fact that Fenris had made a decision like that without him, and he had told him that he felt a bit betrayed by it. Anders had said that he just needed some time for the anger to pass, but that he wouldn't let Fenris go alone. He had also made Fenris promise to never do it again.

Fenris had agreed readily.

"Well talk later, when we have some more privacy." Nate glanced around the packed room. "None of the monarchs here can decide who's in charge. It has been… tense for weeks now. Aedan's Second let them in, because she had little choice."

"I noticed that Medwin didn't say anything. Has he told you why he's here yet?" Fenris asked. He flicked his eyes behind Nate to where Anders and Medwin were having a heated conversation.

"Yeah, he has. The cat's out of the bag, Fenris. He announced that if anyone here was going to destroy Tevinter, it would be him, because they took his older brother. There was a lot of cheering and table banging from his men when he said that."

"Shit…" Fenris closed his eyes in resignation. "Anders warned us that this might happen. We had hoped that Medwin would be a little bit more circumspect."

"I'm starting to see why Anders complained about the Anderfels so much," Nate sighed.

"Will you at least stay in the Free Marches?" Marian yelled. "Maker, Carver, I knew I shouldn't have let you go."

"Problem?" Nate asked Fenris.

"Nothing that isn't new," Fenris shrugged. "Carver is Viscount Hawke's younger brother. He came with us, and became tainted. Marian isn't taking the fact that he's now a warden very well." His lips twitched in a small smile. "Zevran also had to go through the Joining, you'll be glad to know."

Their eyes all widened in shock, and Fenris had to suppress his laughter.

"Thank fuck," Nate growled. "Do you know how many times he and Aedan have fought over the years about Zevran not going into the Deep Roads?"

"I can imagine."

Nate continued on. "And do you know how many times I was dragged into the middle of one of those fights? They were like blighted children. I think they were just doing it so they could make up afterwards."

Velanna covered her ears. "Ugh! I thought when they left I was going to hear the last about their sex life. Please stop."

Smiling, Sigrun jumped up and down, and waved her hands to get Zevran's attention. "Congrats, Zev!"

Zevran smiled back at her, and gave her an elegant, courtly bow.

It was Denerou that drew their attention to the matter at hand. "Who is your friend, Fenris?"

Fenris turned around. Rhys stood off on his own, his arms crossed over his chest. "That's Rhys, and he is no friend of mine," he said flatly. "He only speaks his own language and Arcanum. I think he's going to be very uncomfortable here." He said the last with a malicious grin.

"Does he… Maker, on his skin…" Nate breathed.

"Exactly," Fenris nodded. "As I said, we need to talk."

It was an hour before Nate and Fenris could get away from the main hall, and drag Anders along with them. Anders' face had a look of horror as he trailed them down the corridor to Fenris and Anders' room.

"The blighted barons want to meet me. You realize that I'm going to have to sneak out of the Anderfels now, don't you?" Anders spoke less to Nate and Fenris, and more to himself. "I mean, what in the Void am I supposed to say to them? I don't even like the Anderfels. Oh, hi! My name is Anders. No, really, that's my name, don't laugh. So uh… I'm a bastard son of a king, and you people scare the piss out of me. No, no, I don't want to drink with you and tell tales of fighting darkspawn. I'll just be over here, curled up in a sobbing ball."

He continued on with his rant as they entered the room and shut the door. "I mean, I could just pretend I don't know what they're talking about. That would work right? Like Medwin is insane, and I have never seen him before in my life." Anders flopped down in a chair, while Nate and Fenris took the others that surrounded the table.

"I don't think that would work," Nate pointed out. "The resemblance is striking."

"Don't encourage him," Fenris sighed.

"No, Nate has a point. I guess all that's left is to run. It's a good thing we're going soon, and I…" Anders' mouth snapped shut. "Shit…"

"Going?" Nate asked.

Fenris sent Anders a speaking glance, before turning to Nate. "Hear us out before you get angry with me."

"I'm not angry," Nate said when Fenris and Anders were done with their story. "I am disappointed. Maker, Fenris. What were you thinking? I understand the need for vengeance all too well, but it will eat you up inside and destroy you. I…" Nate looked away. "When I first met Aedan, I had come to the Vigil to kill him. I hated him so much for destroying my family. I blamed him for the loss of my family's status in Ferelden, and for my father's death. It took me a long time to realize that my father had brought it on himself. That the anger I had in me was directed more at him than anyone else." He looked up. "But he was dead, and I no longer even had a chance to tell him what a bastard he was. You had that chance, Fenris. You killed Danarius. Why make others suffer for your hate?"

Now it was Fenris who looked away. "Maybe you're right, but I can't pretend that what I went through doesn't go on every day in Tevinter. I have a chance to crush them once and for all, and I am not going to let that go."

Nate nodded grimly. "All right. I'll drop for now. But you will still have to answer to Aedan, and he isn't the understanding soul that I am."

"You are so not understanding, Nate," Anders said. "You were pissed when Isabela stopped seeing you."

"That's different." Nate shook his head. "I had fooled myself into thinking that she wanted something more from me than she did."

"And now she's here," Fenris said softly.

"And now she's here." Nate raked his hair back from his face. "I'm long over that, but it has been irritating to see her flit from one person to another. I want to tell those poor bastards what they're in for."

"Time of their life and a broken heart?" Anders asked.

Nate laughed. "There is that." Then he sobered. "If you are correct in thinking what Flemeth's motives are, then we all have walked right into it. The question is-can we stop it before it's too late, or has it already gone too far?"

"It's too late," Fenris said. "Arlathan has been revived, and the elvhen will make plans for war. Even if none of the armies here join them and disperse, the elvhen will not back down."

Nate locked eyes with Fenris. "Then I pray to whatever gods are looking over us, that we will not destroy ourselves."

Fenris slammed his fist on the table. "We are still missing something. What the fuck does she want? Why all this? Why now?"

"Her daughter does not know?" nate asked.

It was Anders who answered. "No. She has guesses, just like the rest of us do. I can't help but think that what happened to me in the Fade was a part of her plan as well. If I hadn't been with Morrigan and Aedan, I think Justice might have killed them. She sent Fenris after me for that very reason. The question is, why? Why did she want the Archdemon in the Fade?"

"Why?" Fenris said. "Because she is a witch that plays with people's lives. If I ever see her again, I'm going to kill her once and for all. One only has to look outside to see that she has gone too far."

"I don't think she can be killed." Nate stroked at the small patch of hair under his bottom lip. "Aedan tried once, and failed. She had expected it, and planned accordingly."

"What would killing her do at this point?" Anders asked. "I mean, everything seems to be set in motion right now. Tevinter has to bear the brunt of the blame. Would killing her really stop anything?"

"No," Fenris said flatly. "But it would make me feel better."

"Oh… well then, if it would make you feel better, Love, then by all means, kill the witch. In fact, why don't you just continue on this trend you have of doing things that will make you feel better? You've already incited a war."

Fenris' eyes narrowed. "You're being passive aggressive."

"Really?" Anders asked in mock surprise. "Here I thought I was being blunt."

"I thought we had already talked about this," Fenris said between gritted teeth.

Anders opened his mouth, and then snapped it close. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. "We did. Sorry… I'm really tired, and was looking forward to a few days of peace."

Nate laughed. "Not much chance of that around Aedan. You—"

A frantic knocking on the door interrupted him. Before Anders could finish getting up from his seat, the door clicked and opened. Carver poked his head inside, and he hurried in, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Thank the Maker. I need to… hide out here for a little while. Before my sister and I kill each other. She's gone insane."

His eyes flicked over to Nate. "Nathaniel Howe? You're Howe, correct? Fenris has mentioned you in his letters. You're the Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

Nate smiled. "That would be me. Carver Hawke?"

"Yeah…" Carver strode over to the table. He flattened his palms on it and his gauntlets clanked on the wood. He leaned towards Nate. "I want to join the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

Anders eyebrows shot up. "Ferelden? Not Ansburg, where you'd still be close to—"

"My sister?" Carver snapped. "Oh, yes. That's what she wants me to do. I'm choosing otherwise. I'm not an idiot. My life was already going to end with me babbling to myself from lyrium poisoning." He laughed, and the sound lacked any mirth. "Now, I have to wonder what's going to devour my brain first—the lyrium, or the taint. I would rather spend what's left of my sane days doing what I see is right, and not what my sister wants from me." He locked eyes with Nate. "Take me on. I swear you won't regret it."

Fenris nodded in Carver's direction. "I can vouch for him, if you wish. I've known Carver for years, and have fought with him many times."

Anders whistled low. "Marian is going to kill us…" he said in a sing song voice.

"My sister is in pain because she has lost her child. She is trying even harder than usual to hold onto me." Carver scowled. "I'll take her anger. I'm used to it."

Nate gave Carver a considering look. "You were a templar then?" He eyed the armor that Carver still wore.

"Yes, ser." Carver pushed away from the table and straightened. "Before… Before I was forced to join the wardens, I was going to become a Knight-Captain. I had worked years for it."

"I'm not asking for your credentials," Nate said, and his gruff voice deepened. "I have mages under my command. Some of them scarred from their time in the Circle. They are valued members of the wardens, and essential to our cause."

"Aw…" Anders sighed dreamily. "You just made this mage's heart go all aflutter, Nate."

"I'm serious, Anders." He peered into Carvers eyes to make sure that he was being understood. "The Grey Wardens do what they have to in order to combat the Blights. Some of which would be frowned on by the Chantry."

"Frowned on, get us killed as heretics, what's the difference?" Anders asked. "Ow!" He shot a disgruntled glance at Fenris. "You kicked me!"

"And I just came back from a city that shouldn't be, with a witch. I walked into Tevinter using…" Carver paused.

"We've already told him everything," Fenris said.

"I walked into Tevinter," Carver continued on, "using a magical mirror. I could go on and on, but you're just going to have to take my word for it. I was at Ostagar and survived. I know that there are mages that need to be outside of the Circle in order to do some good. I won't do anything to jeopardize any warden mages."

"Wait..." Anders sputtered. "What? You hated me, and I was doing some good."

"You were also an abomination," Carver stated matter-of-factly. "And dragged my sister into all sorts of trouble."

"Hey! You went with us too."

"Anders," Fenris warned. "This is beside the point."

"All right," Nate said. He folded his hands together on top of the table. "I understand that you and Fenris have been friends for years. And to be honest, we need as many wardens as we can get. Your templar talents could be useful."

Carver smiled, and it was strange for Fenris to see it. It was something that he rarely did, and the few times Fenris had seen it was when they had been…

"You won't regret this, thank you." Carver looked around the room. "Any chance we can get something to eat. I've been starving since we left Arlathan."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also mentions something that happened in the oneshot Captured.

Carver didn't know how to get dressed. Or more, he didn't know what he should wear. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the templar armor displayed neatly on the armor rack on the other side of the room.

Being a templar was one of three choices that Carver had made in his life that he could call his own. The first had been when he had decided to go to Ostagar to fight the horde. Another choice had been when he had gone after Corypheus. Both of those decisions hadn't been his most brilliant, he would never forget the horror that had been Ostagar, nor his escape from the battlefield to find his family, fleeing one step ahead of the horde. And he had botched up destroying Corypheus, hadn't he? The magister turned darkspawn had jumped bodies, and Carver hadn't seen it. He knew that lives had been lost because of his carelessness.

Propping his elbows on his knees, Carver buried his face in his hands. No, out of those three decisions, becoming a templar had felt right, and he had done some good. He had been respected in the barracks, and despite his sister's interference, had carved a name for himself. He had wanted to emulate his namesake, and become the kind of templar that mages didn't need to fear, one that would protect them, and the citizens of Kirkwall.

Now it was gone, snatched from him in an instant of magic that they shouldn't have been playing with. He had been so angry at first-at Aedan for pushing it, at Merrill and Christopher for helping, at Fenris for going along with it. But in the end, he was only angry at himself for not seeing it coming, for not taking a stronger stand. His gut that had served him so well in the templars, had screamed at him to not let them do it, and he had ignored it to his detriment.

So when he had woken in his bed at Weisshaupt his first morning back, Carver had found himself immobilized. Years of training had ingrained in him that he first got dressed in his tunic and breeches, then put his armor on. He could put the blasted plate on himself in his sleep if he needed to. Last night, when he had removed his armor, he had checked it over for damage, and polished any of the steel that was dull, without even thinking about it.

Carver blew out a breath, and lifted his head from his hands. His eyes ran over his amour, and he snorted in disgust. The only person that he felt comfortable enough to talk to about this was Fenris-a fat lot of good that would do him now. Ever since Carver had inadvertently let slip just how much Fenris had meant to him once, things had been awkward between the two of them.

There was a soft knock on his door, and Carver inhaled a slow, shuddering breath to calm himself. He got up and walked barefoot to the door, crossing the thin rug in the center of the room. It had better not be his sister. He loved Marian, he truly did, but she was going to drive him insane. On one hand, he wanted to be there for her in her time of need. On the other hand, she had harped on him for what had felt like hours about how reckless he had been, and that he needed to stay in the Free Marches.

Knowing that she was only acting this way because she loved him and her child was missing, did not help anything. She was still being controlling.

Carver steeled himself and yanked the door open. Any excuses he had prepared for Marian died on his lips when he saw who was standing in the hall. "Howe…"

"Hawke," Nate said. He raised his eyebrows. "May I come in?"

Carver's brain took a moment to switch gears, and he stepped back to let Nate inside, shutting the door behind him.

Nate took in the sparse room that consisted of only a single dresser with a washbasin, a small bed, and the armor and weapon racks. He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face Carver. "I talked to Aedan earlier. He's approved your request to come to be stationed at the Vigil."

"Oh… I didn't know you had to ask. I'm not quite sure how the hierarchy in the Grey Wardens works." Frankly, Carver had tried to think of anything _but_ how the Grey Wardens worked internally. It was as if by not thinking about it, he could forestall the inevitable reality of his situation. Talking about it with Marian last night, had started his mind down a road it hadn't been prepared to go yet. When he had seen Howe in Fenris and Anders' room, he had seized on the idea that there was a way to at least give himself a bit of distance from his sister. It had unfortunately had the adverse effect of making his status as a Warden of the Grey, all too real.

Nate laughed, and Carver noticed that his gravely tone softened when he did so. "The truth is there is little in the way of a chain of command. Aedan is First Warden. That means he's the head of all of the Grey Wardens in Thedas. Each outpost has their own Warden-Commander. The First Warden allows the Warden-Commanders to run their outposts as they see fit, within reason. There is usually a Second in each outpost, but beyond that, it is up to the Warden-Commanders how they run things."

That was… Not exactly how things were done in the templars. Carver had liked the strictness of the chain of command in the templars. His life growing up had been so fluid, that the rigidness of the templars had soothed him. He always had known what was coming, and there were regulations for any surprises that might come along. To him, the wardens sounded like chaos.

Nate must have noticed the slightly appalled look on his face, because he gave Carver a small grin. "You'll get used to it. It took me a long time at first, but I've come to appreciate how the wardens do things. The Grey Wardens deal with an ancient enemy that can rise up at any time. We must be ever vigilant, and able to think on our feet. When Aedan was Warden-Commander of the Vigil, he had a knack for sizing someone up, and seeing the potential in them."

"What about you?" Carver asked before he could bite back the words.

"Ah…" Nate glanced away to examine the threadbare brown rug. "I am learning… But the lessons have been costly at times." He glanced up and gave Carver a startled look, as if he had not meant to say as much as he had. Nate cleared his throat. "Anyway, I came to tell you that you are officially one of my men. Later today, I want you to meet the wardens that came with me. I have known them the longest, and I think you should get to know them."

The small smile was back, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. "This might change your mind about coming to Ferelden, so fair warning, but there are few secrets in Vigil's Keep. We tend to get involved in each other's business. I know it overwhelmed Fenris at first. But we can be a friendly lot when we aren't killing darkspawn."

He walked over to Carver and clapped him on the shoulder. Leaning close, he whispered in his ear. "Just remember, whatever Oghren tries to give you, don't drink it. You might just save your liver's life. Also, don't take anything that Velanna says personally. She can be brash at times." He paused as if reconsidering. "Most of the time," he amended

Carver's breath caught in his throat. It didn't matter, with Nate so close the scent of leather and male drifted into his nostrils. He kept his face perfectly impassive as he felt Howe's breath whispering over his skin. "I'll remember that, thanks. Would… Should I meet you somewhere?"

Nate nodded. "How about meeting us in the dining hall at the noon bell?"

"Yeah… sounds… good." Carver's voice came out a little bit breathier than he would have liked.

Nate nodded again and moved away-thank fuck. Carver turned to watch him walk to the door and open it. He kept his eyes resolutely on the back of Nate's head, and refused to look any lower to his leather covered—

"See you then," Nate called over his shoulder as he left the room, and shut the door behind him.

Carver let out the breath he had been holding. "What is wrong with me!" he cried to the empty room, as if it was going to give him an answer, or even one that he would like.

He knew exactly what was wrong with him. In a male, Nate was exactly his type-a bit dangerous and commanding. Maker knows it was what had drawn him to Fenris. Templars weren't required to take a vow of chastity, and Carver hadn't. But neither had he slept with anyone in all the years he had been a knight. Going to the Rose had just felt like sullying the order, not that he judged any knight that did. At first there had also been Fenris, then Merrill. Carver's heart had been caught up in the two of them, and touching anyone else would have felt like a betrayal of his feelings. Not that it had mattered in the end.

He closed his eyes. No, he knew what was wrong. Fenris had made a vague mention of certain hungers that would be amplified for a time from the Joining. That had to be it. He was continually ravenous for food, and couldn't seem to get enough of it. Was it nothing more than a combination of not having been with anyone in years, and the taint that ran through his veins?

Shit…

The only person Carver could really ask was Fenris, and he was _not_ doing that. He also didn't know any of the other wardens well enough to even broach the subject of… well, sex. Carver was an intensely private person, and talking about something like that with people he had just met? Not going to happen.

Carver concentrated on his breathing. He breathed through his nose, and then out his mouth, counting slowly to himself in threes. Small meditations like this had served him well with the templars. It was a way to center himself in times of crisis.

It wasn't helping.

Every time Carver breathed in he could still smell Howe in the air. A hungry need rose up inside him, and his cock instantly grew half hard. His eyes snapped open with a frustrated cry, and he turned, kicking a bedpost.

And instantly regretted it when he was painfully reminded he wasn't wearing his boots. Pain shot up his foot, killing his burgeoning erection. Carver stumbled over to the bed, and sat down heavily on the mattress, cradling his throbbing foot.

That worked. Now all he had to do was bludgeon himself whenever his desires grew out of control. At least until he could figure this thing out.

Things just kept getting better and better.

* * *

Zevran leaned back against the wall and slipped further into the shadows. He watched through narrowed eyes as Aedan laughed at something that Alistair said. The two men sat at the high table in the crowded dining hall. Weisshaupt was filled to the brim with soldiers, wardens, and nobles. But it was only one noble that had Zevran's full attention.

King Alistair of Ferelden, former templar and former Grey Warden—if there was such a thing.

Jealousy that Zevran hadn't felt since the Fifth Blight rose up inside him. He could almost hate Alistair—almost. There were times when Zevran could forget that he had once shared Aedan's heart with another. The memory had always been close, but had faded and dulled with time. Now that anger, that envy, was back, and Zevran hadn't been prepared for it.

He had no illusions as to what he was. He was a son of a whore, bought by the Crows and trained to murder. He had given his sexual favors freely, and had thought little of anyone other than himself. He was no one, and few would have mourned him if he had died as he had once thought he should have at the end of Aedan's blade.

Aedan Cousland was the second son of a noble family. No matter who he was now, he still carried himself with an air of privilege. He had been born to it, and it had been ingrained in him. When Aedan spoke, people listened. Zevran had seen him literally make kings, and Aedan did not truly realize his power.

He was now…

One had only to look at the way Aedan was deliberately not glancing at the rest of the room to see it. He had spent all morning locked in his study with one monarch or another, and had emerged in a foul mood.

None of them would leave.

Instead of talking to Zevran about it as he usually would, he had walked right by the elf, and gone to Alistair instead. Maker, that had hurt. It had brought up old memories, and old slights.

Morrigan's mocking smile hadn't helped.

That bitch.

For years, Zevran had held Aedan to him with sex and a sympathetic ear. Now as he watched Aedan and Alistair talking and laughing as if they had never been parted, Zevran wondered if it would ever be enough to drive the king from his warden's heart, something that Zevran had thought had happened long ago.

Now he wasn't so sure, and the doubt ate at him.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Zevran's head snapped to the side to see Anders grinning at him with that crooked smile of his. That wasn't good. Anders should never have gotten so close without Zevran knowing. Zevran gave him a smile in return, and made sure that it reached his eyes. There was no point in lying if your eyes gave you away. A simple mistake that so many made, and one easily corrected with practice. If he couldn't smile without guile at someone before he shoved a knife in their back, then he would make a very poor assassin indeed.

Anders moved in front of Zevran, and cut off his line of sight to Aedan. "So, I need to talk to you about something." He glanced behind him and then back again, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "Fenris and I have been talking," he said just barely loud enough to be heard over the din, "and we were wondering if you and Aedan would be interested in uh…uh… If the four of us could sometime, you know…" Anders winced. "Maker," he mumbled to himself, "I use to be good at this." He cleared his throat. "We were wondering if you and Aedan would like to join us."

As he watched Anders flounder and fidget, anger rose up inside him. "Join you?" he asked in a deadly whisper that went unnoticed by Anders.

"Yeah, you know, in bed. The four of us, having fun... in bed..." Anders winced again.

Zevran snapped. He walked forward, and got deliberately into Anders' space. "Let me make this clear, yes? The both of you wish to sleep with me, and my Aedan? Do you think I would share him with you? I have bled for him. I have lied, stolen and murdered for him. I had my cock down his throat while that bitch rode him because he didn't want to sully his precious Alistair, and you want a piece of him as well? Do you think you can take him from me?"

Anders' eyes widened with each word, and he held his hands up. "Whoa! Hold on now. That's not what I'm saying. I'm sorry if—"

"You are sorry? You are _not_ sorry. You wish to have him the way everyone wants him. But I was the one that got him in the end, yes? _Me!_ If I see either of you near him, I will slit your throats and leave you in the snow to rot when the thaw comes."

"Andraste's tits, Zev, what's the matter with you?" Anders lowered his hands. "What happened? This isn't like you."

"You wouldn't know what I am like," Zevran said. In his periphery, Zevran saw that the seats that Aedan and Alistair had occupied were now empty. They had left the room without him noticing.

He knew he was being irrational, one look at Anders' horrified and concerned face told him that much. But Anders didn't know, none of them did, they couldn't understand what he was feeling right now.

"Zev," Anders said gently. "If you need to talk—"

"No. I do not need to talk." With that, Zevran spun on his heel and stalked from the dining hall, leaving a stunned Anders behind. Maker, what had he done? He was going to be lucky if Anders didn't tell Aedan about this, and that was the last thing he needed.


	25. Chapter 25

In retrospect, Carver should have seen what was going to happen when he went to the dining hall. With the way things were going recently-Maker, the way his life had always gone—it shouldn't have surprised him one little bit.

The dining hall was crowded, and sounded echoed and bounced off each other to create a thunderous din. Except for the high table, everyone was seated with their own faction. Carver spotted the table that the wardens from Vigil's Keep sat at, and weaved his way through the throng.

Oghren was just as Carver remembered, and the dwarf stood on the long table, a tankard of ale in his hand that sloshed as he gestured wildly. His booming voice reached Carver's ears before he even got to the table. "—and then I said, 'Aedan, you got some balls on ya, how do ya walk?', and then he said, 'Wheelbarrow, Oghren. Lost it outside of Lake Calenhad.'" The dwarf laughed uproariously, and took a huge gulp of his ale.

A female dwarf turned red beneath her facial tattoos, and clapped her hands over her heated cheeks. "That's horrible!" she cried with a grin.

"If I'm lying, may all the hair on my ass fall off," Oghren pronounced.

An elven woman that sat next to the female dwarf, shuddered and grimaced. "Yes, because that would be a horrible thing."

Nathaniel Howe sat across from the both of them, and he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in his mirth. Carver felt the breath catch in his throat. Shit… Howe was dangerous. This was a mistake. Maybe if he talked to Aedan he could just stay in the Anderfels. It had to be better than thi—

Nate's warm grey eyes lifted and met Carver's. Nate grinned and waved Carver over. Damn it, he had no choice now. He gave Nate a weak smile and walked the rest of the way to the table. The rest of the wardens had turned their heads to watch Carver's approach. The dwarven woman scooted over on the bench, and made room for Carver to sit. He muttered his thanks, and it was lost in the noise of the room.

A plate of food was placed in front of him the moment he sat down by an unseen hand. He hesitated for a heartbeat before digging in. Maker, would he never stop being hungry? Fenris had warned him what it might be like, but he hadn't thought it would be this bad. As he sopped up his stew with a chunk of bread, he glanced up. Several pairs of eyes looked back at him, and he noticed that Oghren had climbed down off the table and was seated across from him.

Nate waited patiently for Carver to clean his plate before speaking. "Carver Hawke, these are the Grey Wardens of Vigil's Keep." He nodded to a dalish elf with long black hair that was pulled up high on his head. "This is Denerou. Best archer I've ever seen."

Denerou gave Carver a small smile, and the intricate blood writing on his face shifted. "Nate is being kind," he said in a quiet voice. "We met briefly before, in Kirkwall when Aedan came for a visit a few years ago."

Ah! Carver thought he looked familiar. "I remember you. What happened to your friends that were with you?"

The smile fell from Denerou's face. "Dead."

Great… Foot in mouth. "Sorry," Carver muttered. Not only was he wearing a plain set of breeches and tunic, but he felt unarmored in more ways than one. He hadn't felt this lost since he had first joined the templars. At least there, he'd had Cullen to talk to and help navigate his way. He had to trust that Howe would do the same.

"No need," Denerou assured him. The friendly smile was back. "I look forward to working with you."

"Oh, for the love of…" The elven female rolled her eyes. "Denerou, someday your niceness is going to bite you in the ass." She leaned forward so she could get a better look at Carver. "I'm Velanna. I'm not too fond of humans, but if you can prove to me that you're willing to do what it takes to fight the darkspawn, then we'll have no problems. Also, keep your hands to yourself, or you'll wake up one morning with them missing."

Carver gritted his teeth. "Likewise." Nate's warning about Velanna came back to him, and he tamped down the urge to lay into her.

_Make nice,_ he told himself. _You're going to be with these people for a while._

Thankfully, the dwarf next to him piped up. "I'm Sigrun. It's nice to have someone new. Are you really the Viscount Hawke's brother? Were you really a templar? I heard that you knew Anders when he was living in Kirkwall-Fenris too. I've heard a few things about you from…" She stuttered to a halt and glanced away. "Anyway, it's good to meet you."

Wait a minute… Sigrun? As in Varric's Sigrun? Maker, no… The things that Varric must have told her about him made Carver shudder. "Whatever Varric has told you, is probably not true," he said in a rush. "I…"

Sigrun clapped her hands over her mouth and laughed. She really was pretty when her eyes were sparkling with mirth. "I know. I learned a long time ago not to believe everything he tells me." The laughter died in her eyes and she sighed. Velanna touched Sigrun's shoulder gently, and glared over the top of her head at Carver, as if it was his fault that her smile had disappeared.

Damn it! Carver was not going to take the blame for whatever it was that Varric did. Fuck that.

"And you've met Oghren before," Nate interjected, thankfully drawing everyone's attention from Sigrun. "Besides Anders, Fenris, Christopher and Merrill, that is everyone who came with us to Weisshaupt." He glanced around the room and grimaced. "I wish I had brought more now."

"Is there really going to be war?" Carver asked.

Nate sighed. "Who knows. Aedan takes certain things seriously, and warden involvement is one of them. If wardens get involved in politics, then it makes the job harder for us."

"Too late for that." Oghren belched. "Ferelden has a warden king. Aedan put Alistair and Bhelen on their thrones. The boy has already meddled. We traveled here with the king, and met up with your sister and Prince Vael in Kirkwall. Things went downhill from there. Sorry, but war it is. Sodding magisters took your nephew, and tried to kill the King of Ferelden. Can't let things like that slide."

Malcolm… Carver closed his eyes, and sent a silent prayer to the Maker to keep him safe. His eyes snapped open when something occurred to him. The Eluvian… If the magisters had Malcolm, they might be able to use it to sneak into Minrathous and take him back. Zevran had contacts there. If he brought the assassin and Fenris with him—

Nate suddenly jerked forward in his seat, slamming into the edge of the table. Carver's eyes shot behind Nate, to see three men wearing tabards that bore the heraldry of the King of Ferelden.

One of them smirked down at Nate. "Sorry, Howe. Didn't see you there." The three men laughed and began to move away. "Maybe you should leave, Howe," the man called back behind him. "Being a traitor is in your blood. We wouldn't want you running to Minrathous and betraying everyone."

Red descended in Carver's vision. Before he knew what he was doing, he had shot to his feet, and gone over the table, sending plates of food crashing to the floor. He grabbed the one that spoke by the shoulder and spun him around, slamming a fist into his face. There was the satisfying crunch of bone as his nose broke, and blood spurted over Carver's knuckles.

"Want to say that again!" Carver shouted. He gripped him by his tabard and threw another punch that snapped the man's head back. Rage had its tendrils deep in Carver's mind. He couldn't think—only act. Dimly he was aware of the scrape of chairs and benches around him, and the cloying hands of the man's friends as they tried to pull Carver off.

With his lips pulled back in a feral grimace, Carver turned and slammed the man bodily down on the table next to them, the crash sending reverberations down the length of the wood. The urge to beat him senseless was unrelenting. Carver couldn't stop hitting him, even when he felt the little finger on his right hand pop out of joint.

Arms wrapped around Carver's waist and hauled him back. The scent of leather and male assailed his nostrils, and for the first time, Carver began to realize what he'd done. He rolled his eyes to the side, and met Nate's gaze. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"Joining," Nate said flatly. "Help me get him out of here," he called over his shoulder to the other wardens.

Carver's eyes turned forward and landed on the man he had almost beaten to death. More men wearing the tabard of the King of Ferelden gathered, some of them helping their fallen comrade, while others eyed Carver and the wardens as they backed away.

Maker… What had he done?

Guilt and shame swamped him, and Carver made a distressed noise deep in his throat. The arms that were pulling him back through the dining hall tightened.

"Not your fault," Nate muttered. "I should have… Damn it. I should have seen it coming."

No, Carver thought as they left the dining hall. No, like so much else in his life, this could be only laid at Carver's door.

* * *

"Don't tell my sister," Carver said softly. He would not beg, even in this, he wouldn't beg.

Anders cradled Carver's hand in his own. Carver sat on the edge of his bed, with Anders kneeling on the floor in front of him. He had popped the knuckle back in its socket, and was now sending a healing spell through Carver's hand to knit the abused flesh back together.

"I promise," Anders whispered. "But she's going to hear about it."

Carver flinched, and it wasn't from pain. Of course she was. And when she did, Marian would march directly to his room, and tell him why he needed to go back to Kirkwall. She wouldn't care that he was a warden now, or even a grown man. All she would see was that her baby brother had gotten into a fight, and couldn't take care of himself.

When Anders was done, he stood up and smoothed out his robes. "You need to find an outlet, Carver. It takes a little while for the Joining to settle down. Fenris decided he was going to take on the whole of Vigil's Keep in the practice yard before he calmed down."

Carver gave a bitter laugh. "So I'm supposed to bash skulls until I'm sated? You make it sound like sex."

"Well… Sex can help too, if you want to know the truth," Anders said indelicately.

"So I'm supposed to find someone to fuck, and that'll make it okay that I almost killed someone?" Carver asked harshly. "Fuck you, Anders. Thank you for healing me, but fuck you."

Anders held his hands up. "Maker, everyone is so touchy today. Earlier Zevra…" He trailed off. "Oh… Oh, shit." He glanced over at Nate who had been largely silent since Anders had entered the room. "Zev took my head off earlier. I think I need to have a talk with Aedan, excuse me." He hurried from the room and left, shutting the door behind him.

Carver buried his face in his hands. He couldn't look at Nate, not now. The Maker be damned scent was filling the room, and it was driving Carver insane.

"I'm sorry, Carver," Nate began. "If I'd been paying attention, I could have prevented this. I've only been your commander for a few hours, and I've already failed you."

Failed him? Fuck… Carver had failed himself-as usual. But as Nate's gravelly voice rolled over his skin like a caress that was the furthest thing from Carver's mind.

He couldn't go down this road again. He was so tired of wanting someone, only to have it blow up in his face. "I'm going to ask Aedan to let me stay in the Anderfels," he muttered beneath his hands. Far away from his sister. Far away from Fenris and Anders. Far away from Merrill and Christopher. Far away from Nathaniel Howe and the danger he posed.

If he had been looking, Carver would have seen the disappointment in Nate's eyes. "I… I understand. I'm sorry."

Carver flinched when he heard the door open and close again.

* * *

But two days went by, and he still hadn't gone to talk to Aedan. No, instead he was watching Nate like some sort of pervert from the shadows of the doorway that led to the practice yard. Denerou, Nate, and Sebastian Vael, were having some sort of impromptu archery contest. Bets were being placed around them as Nate notched an arrow and sighted down the shaft.

Carver huddled deeper into his fur cloak, and leaned his head back against the freezing stone. A meeting was scheduled in three days to talk of war. Each monarch and representative were supposed to attend. Since Carve r had been at Arlathan, he had been told to come as well.

So far, no one had tried to retaliate against Carver for what he'd done in the dining hall. To be fair, he kept mostly to his room, only coming out to seek Nate and watch him, before stomping back to his room. Every meal, he would open his door to find a plate of food and a tankard of ale sitting in front of his door. He didn't know who was doing it, but he suspected it might be Marian. He was avoiding Marian as well, and hadn't opened the door for her each time she had come.

Carver didn't trust himself.

If the Joining needed time to settle, then Carver was going to give it time—alone. He went through wild mood swings that turned rapidly from deep lust, to intense anger. Meditating did nothing. Neither did taking his cock in hand. But that was its own shame, and the last thing Carver wanted to dwell on.

"If you look at his ass even harder, his leathers might burn off," said a voice next to him.

Carver groaned and closed his eyes in resignation. "What do you want, Isabela?"

"Want?" Isabela asked in surprise. "Oh, honey, I want so many things, but I'll settle on you telling me what's wrong with you? Marian is pretty upset, and I don't like it when my friends are upset."

"None of your business," Carver gritted out. "None of my sister's either."

Isabela clucked her tongue. "Now, you know that everything is my business. Why are you being so silly?" She paused, and Carver tensed. "But now that I think on it, I know exactly what's wrong. Poor, Carver. You want to fuck the Warden-Commander. Or have him fuck you. Either way, you're barking up the wrong dick. He doesn't have any interest in men."

Carver felt the blood drain out of his face. He hadn't known until that moment that he had been holding onto a small hope. Now that it was gone, Carver mourned its loss. His chest ached, and he rubbed his fist into it through the furs. "How… How do you know that?"

"He told me. He and I had an understanding a few years back. Too bad, he was quite good. In fact—"

Carver lurched into action. He grabbed her by her own fur cloak and pushed her up against the doorway. "Why do you have to be such a bitch? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Isabela tilted her head to the side. She wasn't intimated in the slightest. "I may be a bitch, but I am truly trying to help you. You wallow, Carver, and when you do it, you take everyone down with you-people who care about you. Your sister has too many worries without adding you to them."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Carver snapped. "My sister doesn't need me. She has Cullen, and everyone else around her."

"That's where you're wrong, sweet cheeks. We need Marian, even Cullen. Marian, she needs _you_. Maker, you're not too bright at times, are you? Look, I've said my piece. Forget about Howe, and go to your sister. Now unless you're going to channel all that lovely rage into some hot, up against the wall sex, you need to let me go before I cut your balls off." To emphasize her point, he pushed the tip of the dagger that she had in her hand against Carver's crotch. He hadn't even felt her unsheathe it.

"And what if I said I wanted to fuck you?"

Isabela threw her head back and laughed. "Sorry, pumpkin. We both know that you'd be lying, and I don't fuck people that really want someone else. I need a person's undivided attention."

"Even if they don't have yours?" Carver spat.

"Well, no one is perfect," Isabela shrugged. She glanced over Carver's shoulder. "And here comes the white knight to save you from my nefarious clutches. Or was that nefarious pussy? I can never remember."

Carver glanced behind him to see Nate striding towards them through the snow. His eyes shot back towards Isabela, where his hands were over the furs covering her breasts, and how his body was pushed against her.

This… was not good.


	26. Chapter 26

Aedan scowled at Alistair. "Fuck… So what you're telling me is that I'm screwed, and this is going to happen anyway? Damn it, Alistair, didn't you get enough of war during the Blight?" Aedan sank back into his chair, and propped his elbows on his massive desk. He glared across the wood at Alistair, who looked entirely too comfortable in his own chair.

"Sorry, Aedan. Look, if you don't want the Wardens involved then I can't do any more to convince you. But we are going to keep our own troops here." Alistair gave him a disarming grin.

Aedan's scowl only deepened. "How the fuck is that not involving us? I know that Weisshaupt is in the Anderfels, but Medwin can't just decide to hand over my fortress. Fuck all of you and the damned crowns you wear."

"Actually, he can. The Grey Wardens only have as much as the nation they are outposted in decide to give them. How much money have I poured into the Vigil over the past several years?" He held up his hand to forestall any argument. "Not, that I am complaining, mind you. Money well spent, time and again. But that doesn't change the fact that you're stuck with us for the time being. If the Wardens don't wish to march on Minrathous with us, then don't go."

Aedan slammed his fist on his desk. Even though Alistair hadn't seen Aedan in years, the flair of temper didn't make him even so much as flinch. "Fuck you, fuck Bhelen, fuck, Hawke, fuck Vael, fuck Medwin, fuck Wynne, fuck Sten, fuck Leliana, fuck every single one of you for putting me into this position."

"You seem angry, Aedan." Alistair said dryly.

"And fuck your stupid fucking jokes! Don't you people get it? You're being used-all of you. Flemeth is up to something, and by the Maker I'm stopping it right here."

Alistair's face hardened, and it took Aedan aback. Maker, Alistair had settled into being king. As much as Aedan hated to admit it, he was really missing the Alistair that he could ride roughshod over. He could really use that guy right about now.

"You're acting like a selfish child," Alistair snapped. "Oh, boo hoo, my precious fortress is being overrun. Well, fuck you too, Aedan. You have Weisshaupt on the sufferance of King Medwin. If he wants to park an army in your bedchamber, then he can and will. Tevinter has not only insulted and threatened his sovereignty, but the sovereignty of Ferelden, Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and Orzammar, not to mention what they did to the Circle of the Magi, and the Divine herself. So you can whine all you want. If you don't want to join the ball, then you don't have put on the damned gown. No one is going to make you."

Aedan reared back and blinked. "You… You…" His lips twitched as he fought a smile, and lost. "Gown? Did you just equate war to going to a ball?"

Alistair grinned. It made him look younger, and brought back memories of a more naïve Alistair. "You were a noble. You know what those blighted balls are like. So my analogy is apt."

The grin slipped off of Aedan's face. "Everything is so fucked up, Alistair. I… I'm not going to get into it all now-that'll have to wait for the meeting in a few days. It's just…" He scrubbed at his face, suddenly bone weary. "Zev won't talk to me, and I haven't seen him for days. I just found out that two of my best Wardens are leaving. They're going to join the war, and I can't stop them. I've found myself more than once wishing that I could go back to how things were during the Blight. What in the Void is that? I miss the fucking _Blight_ , that's how all to shit I feel everything is going."

Alistair delicately cleared his throat. "Uh… Zev isn't talking to you? Do you think you're so angry because you're not getting any se—"

Aedan held up his hands. "I am not the kind of guy that needs sex often or else I go insane. I can do my job."

"Uh huh…" Alistair said. "You're forgetting that I was with you during the Blight. You were more at peace with yourself when Zev was around." He hooked his index fingers together. "You two are part of the same whole. Neither one of you seems to function well without the other."

Aedan shook his head in astonishment. "Do you seriously think I was calmer? Zev drove me insane." It occurred to Aedan that he and Alistair had never talked about his relationship with Zevran, not really. It felt strange to do it now.

"You loved it," Alistair accused. "From the moment he opened his eyes and looked at you, you were smitten, admit it."

Scratch strange, this was going to become awkward.

"Maybe," Aedan said reluctantly. "Zev has a knack for figuring people out. He use to follow me around, pestering me about…" He trailed off as he sank into memories and things better left unsaid.

"About me?"

Aedan's startled eyes shot up and met Alistair's knowing gaze. "About a year after I became king I figured it out, you know." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I might have been slow on the uptake, but I've learned. I realized all those little touches you would give me, and the way you would look at me… I'm so glad that you found happiness with Zev. I felt guilty for a long time, before I realized that it didn't matter."

Aedan opened his eyes and blew out a slow breath. "Thank you. I've always worried that you would think less of me if you found out."

"Me? I was worried that you harbored some resentment for me, because I was unable to return your feelings." Alistair laughed, and something inside Aedan loosened. Maker, he should have talked to Alistair about this years ago.

"Zev helped me get over it," Aedan admitted.

Alistair gave him a wry smile. "So we all heard at camp, several times. The two of you did more to my poor virgin ears than walking into the Pearl could ever do. "

Aedan snorted. "Zev isn't what I would call quiet."

"Neither are you." Alistair rolled his eyes, and then he sighed. "Look, hunt Zev down, force him to tell you what's wrong, do whatever the two of you do together, and calm down. This war is going to happen. Whether the Wardens join us is up for debate."

"You've become a bossy little bitch, haven't you?" Aedan said without malice. He knew what was wrong with Zev. Anders had come to him a few days ago, and told him that he thought that Zev was reacting badly to the Joining, but Aedan couldn't pin him down to help him. When the former Crow didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Aedan just had to wait for Zevran to come to him.

Morrigan on the other hand, had acted as if nothing had happened. Some people the Joining did nothing to. It was capricious that way. Who lived, who died, who needed time for the Joining to settle, and who didn't. The Joining didn't care.

Once a day, Aedan would go to Morrigan's room to play with his son. He knew that Morrigan was planning on leaving with the boy as soon as she deemed it was safe, but Aedan was going to fight her on it. Once he had his son in his arms, he wasn't able to let him go.

"Goes with the crown," Alistair shrugged. Then he sobered. "You're also going to have to stand before more than a few governing bodies of Thedas, and explain why the Wardens don't seem to think they have to tell us what's going on. Maker, Aedan, you don't have to do everything on your own anymore."

Aedan looked away. "I know. I'm not use to having to answer to anyone for my actions. But you know as well as I do, that there is a reason the Wardens are usually so quiet about their activities. I can't spend time playing the diplomat every single time my men want to take a piss in another country."

"Save it for the meeting." Alistair got to his feet. "I was just giving you a heads up, so you wouldn't be caught off guard when the questions come."

Oh, there were going to be questions all right. Aedan was sure of it. He had decided he was going to lay it all out- Fenris, the Architect, Arlathan, Flemeth, everything. If the rulers currently squatting in his fortress wanted a war, then they needed to know what they were getting into.

"Alistair," Aedan called out, and he paused at the door. "Thanks. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, you cranky bastard," Alistair threw over his shoulder. "Next time, let's not go so long before we get together, all right. Being on top is lonely."

Aedan sighed. "Tell me about it."

Alistair laughed and opened the door. "Hey, Zev. We were just talking about you."

Aedan's head jerked up, and he half rose out of his chair. "Zev?"

Zevran pushed by Alistair, and Aedan didn't miss the small glare that Zev gave the king. He stopped in the middle of the room, and turned his back on Alistair. "Shut the door on your way out," he told the king in a deadly voice.

Alistair gave Aedan a worried look before closing the door behind him.

Zevran waited until he heard the soft click of the latch before launching into Aedan. "Did you fuck him yet? Or do I need to keep away some more until you do?"

"What?" Aedan sat down heavily in his chair. "Is this why you've been hiding from me? Because you think I was going to fuck Alistair? What the fuck, Zev? I know that you might be having problems with the Joining, but I thought you knew me better than that."

Zevran gave a wild laugh, and the hair on the back of Aedan's neck stood up at the sound. He had never heard Zevran make a sound like that before. It was full of pain, and anger. "Then Fenris?" Zevran strode over to Aedan's desk and slapped his hands on the wood. "Anders came to me, you know. He wanted to know if we would be interested in fucking the two of them. Did you do it already? Did they go behind my back and come to you?"

Aedan had to tread carefully. He knew what Anders had meant now. Zevran wasn't acting like himself. He rarely came right out and told Aedan what was bothering him like this, and especially not in such a confrontational way. "No, I didn't. Did I pass your test, Zev? You wanted to see what I would do if you left me for a time, didn't you?" He leaned forward. "When I'm not in meetings, or looking for you, I've been left with my blighted hand. No one else will do for me, Zev. How many times do I need to tell you that? How many times do I need to show you that, before you'll believe me?" He kept his voice even and low, as if he was speaking to a frightened animal that could attack.

The two men locked eyes, and it was Zevran that looked away first. "I'm sorry, yes? Him being here… I…"

Aedan touched Zevran's hands, and pried then away from the desk, twining their fingers together. "Zev… I'm lost without you. Alistair was so long ago. What I felt then for him, is only a fraction of what I feel for you. We have a date to keep, remember?"

For the first time since he had entered Aedan's study, Zevran smiled. "We see how deep we can go, yes? Our blades will be sharp, and we will put the fear of the Maker into every darkspawn we encounter."

Aedan squeezed Zevran's hands. "When we aren't killing, we'll fuck, then go kill some more. Then we'll reach an Archdemon, and slay it before it can even rise. We'll carve our names into its bones, so that the ones that come after us will know what we did."

A tear slipped down Zevran's cheek. "You and I together in the end, yes?"

Aedan lifted Zevran's hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "Always," he breathed.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I am putting myself on a schedule. Apologies to those that are going to see this more than once.
> 
> Monday: What Was Lost will be updated.
> 
> Tuesday: Sword of Mercy.
> 
> The rest of the week is going to be dedicated to NaNoWriMo.
> 
> When nano is over, I'll change it so that everything gets updated more frequently. That way, you don't have to wonder, and everything will get worked on. ^_^

Carver yanked his hands away from Isabela as if they were burned. She grinned at him, and the smile only grew wider when Nate approached, a scowl on his face.

"Oh, how cute. Little Nate is going to be all protective." She raised an eyebrow at Nate when he reached them. "Why do I get the feeling I was lied to?" she muttered under her breath.

"Carver," Nate said, completely ignoring Isabela. "Would you care to come with me? We need to talk."

Carver glanced from Nate to Isabela, then back again. He really didn't want to talk to Howe, not with his emotions still raw. But he didn't see any legitimate way out of it, and Nate had a determined set to his jaw. He nodded and moved towards the door that led back into the fortress, Nate on his heels.

"Don't mind me," Isabela called after them. "I'll just stay out here, and think about how much Wardens irritate me."

With Weisshaupt so full, the large fortress was much warmer on the inside. Almost every room was brimming with soldiers, mages, and Wardens, and fires roared continually throughout the day and night to heat the rooms. Carver stripped off his cloak, and draped it over one arm. His fingers and nose burned from the contrast of the frigid air of the Anderfels, and the warmth of Weisshaupt, and he flexed his hands.

Nate caught up to him, and the older man didn't speak a word as he led them down the crowded corridors. It was only when they turned a corner and the crowd had trickled down to nothing, that Nate spoke.

"Why haven't you talked to Aedan yet?"

Carver stuttered to a halt. "I… I…" he sputtered at Nate's back. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Or more, it should have been, but Carver wasn't himself lately, and was caught off guard.

Nate turned to face him. "It's been days now. If you're having second thoughts and still want to come to the Vigil, then you are more than welcome. I just… I need to know where we stand."

_You and me both_ , Carver thought to himself with no small amount of self-deprecation.

"I needed some time to myself," Carver answered instead. "My life has been turned upside down, and I wasn't… I'm not handling it very well." There, that was close enough to the truth to not be a complete lie.

Nate nodded, and some of his dark hair slid over his right shoulder. Carver's fingers twitched, and this time it had nothing to do with the cold, and more to do with the urge to touch those strands to see if they felt as silky as they looked.

"I understand that need. I wasn't given much choice in my own Joining. I had…" Nate blew out a breath. "I had just come back to Ferelden from the Free Marches, and had found that not only was my father dead, but my family had been disgraced." He laughed wryly at the memory. "I was young and brash, and when I had heard that the very man responsible for killing my father had been given his arldom and keep, I immediately went to the Vigil to kill him, and avenge my father. I was careless, and was caught. Aedan had had every right to hang me, but instead, he made me a Warden. I was lucky, though. The Joining did not affect me as much as it can in others. Still… I spent weeks being angry at everything and everyone. Where ever I looked, I saw what my father's arrogance had wrought."

"Children shouldn't have to pay for the sins of the parents," Carver said without thinking, and immediately wanted to take the words back.

Nate's eyes widened imperceptibly. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when someone shouted down the hall.

"Hawke and Howe… Fancy seeing the two of you together. We've been looking for you, Hawke."

Carver's head whipped around to see six men advancing towards them. They each wore the tabard of the King of Ferelden, and Carver's heart began beating rapidly. Maker, he knew there was going to be a reckoning for what he had done in the dining hall.

His cloak slipped from his arm to pool at his feet, and he hands tightened into fists. The odds were poor, but if it was time to pay for what he had done, then Carver wasn't going to go down without a showing of his own.

Nate had other ideas.

He grabbed Carver by the arm, and yanked him back. "Run, damn it! We can't fight the king's men. Carver, we need to go."

"You go," Carver hissed. "This isn't your fight."

"It _is_ my fight, you stubborn bastard. You're still one of my men, and I don't leave one of my own behind."

As Carver looked into the steely grey of Nate's eyes, he realized what the other man wasn't telling him. Nate would be blamed for anything that happened, just as he was probably blamed for Carver attacking another in the dining hall.

Guilt swamped him. _Foolish_ , Carver berated himself. _Why didn't I see it before?_

With one last look at the men moving towards them, Carver grabbed Nate by the hand.

Together they ran.

* * *

It was Nate who found the small closet in the corridor, and the two of them tumbled inside. Nate shut the door a few seconds before they heard the pounding boots of their pursuers race pass.

It was dark in the cramped space, the only sliver of light coming in from just under the door. Carver's back was pressed sharply into a low shelf, and he shifted to ease the discomfort.

That was a mistake.

The front half of his body brushed against Nate, and Carver could feel warm breath on his cheek. The scent of leather and male filled his nostrils, and he reached behind him to grip the edge of the shelf with shaking hands.

His punishment wasn't going to involve being beaten senseless by a group of men looking for revenge. Instead, it was going to be trapped in a dark space with the man he couldn't stop thinking of.

He would almost have preferred the beating.

Nate tilted his head to the side, and yes… his hair was that silky. It brushed over Carver's neck, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the moan that welled up.

"I'll talk to Alistair and Aedan," Nate whispered.

Oh, Maker… His raspy voice slid over Carver, and at first he didn't process what was being said to him.

"We'll figure out a way for you to make reparations, so that this doesn't happen again."

Carver didn't trust himself to speak, so he remained silent. He knew what Nate was saying to him was important, but he would be damned if he could figure out why. Not with the man so close. In the near dark, Carver felt like he was surrounded by Nate-his scent, the heat from his body, his breath in Carver's ear.

Boot steps thundered down the hall again, and they could hear the men shouting as they searched for them. Carver and Nate both stiffened, which had the unfortunate effect of bringing their bodies in closer contact.

Specifically with Carver's erection.

Carver closed his eyes in mortification. He had to say something—anything-to explain it away. There was no chance that Nate didn't feel it, not with the way it was pressing incessantly against the other man's thigh.

"The Joining," Carver blurted out. Better this shame than Nate knowing the full truth. "Templars… We… They…" He swallowed, thankful for the darkness. "The lyrium affects our minds and bodies. Small things at first, but for some of us, it makes it hard to… We don't talk about it, but it's understood… The Joining seems to have fixed that problem for me," he finished lamely.

Carver was a practiced liar. He'd had to be, with his family. Little white lies that was close to the truth, but not the whole. Why couldn't his friends come to visit him? Why were his sisters so strange and standoffish? What did his father do to earn a living? So many things Carver had had to lie about in his life.

He'd always hated doing it, just as he hated it now.

"Did I interrupt you and Isabela?" Nate asked quietly.

Lies upon lies… Carver didn't want to talk about Marian and what Isabela had told him. "No!" He snapped his mouth shut when he realized he'd been too loud. "No," he said quieter, "I've known Isabela for years. She's a good friend of my sister's, and I know what she's like. I don't do casual sex."

"I don't either," Nate admitted. "I frustrated her because of that. I thought I could handle it, but I hadn't been prepared for how reality would be. When she wanted to bring another man into our bed, I began backing off. She took the hint, and found someone more to her tastes."

Carver hadn't known that, but he also had stayed out of what his sister's friends were doing when he had become a Templar. They had never been his friends, not really. Fenris had been the exception, and when he had left, Carver had no longer had any reason to seek the others out.

"She said that you didn't like men." Carver didn't know why he'd said that, other than to use it as an excuse to keep Nate talking, and Carver's mind off of how close the other man was.

"Did she?" Nate laughed a deep rumble that reverberated down Carver's chest.

Nate moved away, and Carver didn't stop the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. The door to the closet was cracked open, and Carver blinked against the sudden light.

"I'll go first," Nate said. "Count to one hundred and then leave after me. Head straight to your room and lock the door. I'll go and straighten this out with Alistair and Aedan. There's going to be fighting enough, and we shouldn't be going after each other."

Carver nodded. He felt a bit of a coward for running and hiding, but he understood why Nate was asking it of him. Still, the knowledge of why didn't make him feel any better about it.

Nate opened the door wider and stepped out into the corridor. When he didn't move at first, Carver stared at his back in askance.

"I lied," Nate said. He glanced over his shoulder at Carver, his hand gripping the door latch tightly. "I do sleep with men. I only told her that so she wouldn't think there was a chance that another could have been brought into our bed."

With that pronouncement, he shut the door on Carver's stunned face.

* * *

"Again!"

Fenris snarled and slashed with his sword. The blade swiped through air, and smacked into the slush and mud, splattering Fenris' already mud covered tabard.

Rhys reappeared in a flash of light and scowled. "You are not doing what I told you to. You will see me easily if only you would allow yourself to fly free. If you wish me defeat me, little elf, then you need to open yourself."

Fenris shook his sword free of the mud. The two of them had been in this small courtyard for hours, and had made a complete mess of the ground. Snow had been compacted and melted into the ground from their boots, creating a freezing mud that Fenris had a hard time keeping his footing in.

Anders was watching them from a small bench off to the side, his eyes narrowed in anger on Fenris' behalf.

Two days ago, Rhys had come to Fenris to tell him that he wanted to teach Fenris how to use his brands to their full capability. No matter how much Fenris hated the elvhen, he knew that it would be foolish to turn him down.

Now he was regretting that decision.

Rhys was a master at what he did, reappearing and disappearing in flashes of blue light. Fenris hadn't been able to touch him once, and it frustrated him to no end. It didn't help that Rhys would taunt Fenris, goading his anger on.

"I don't know what you mean," Fenris said between gritted teeth. "How many times must I tell you that I cannot do the things you do? This is a waste of time."

Rhys pointed at Fenris with one of the swords he held in each hand. "And how many times must I tell you that isn't so? You are of the ones dedicated to Fen'Harel now. Did you not ask for this?"

Ask for it? The blood roared in Fenris' ears. "I might have asked for the markings, but I did not—"

Rhys waved his protests away with the tip of his sword. "You have to ask for it. You have to be willing in order to live through the dedication. Fen'Harel will not take those that are forced into it."

The roaring increased, until Fenris could barely hear his own thoughts. "I fought for the right, but I did not know…"

"Ah… Then that is why you were damaged. The magisters, they twist everything. Some of us do fight for the right, while others gain Fen'Harel's favor with other means. Do they not teach the elves anything?"

"Maybe if the elvhen didn't decide to abandon the elves, then we would know," Anders called. "How about you stop being a jackass and explain yourself? Might make a nice change."

If anything, Rhys looked more amused than offended. He sheathed his sword, and gestured for Fenris to do the same. "Then I will explain. Maybe then you will understand what you are doing wrong."

Fenris pulled a piece of scrap linen from a pouch at his waist, and began wiping down his sword.

"I am not boasting when I say that those of us dedicated to Fen'Harel are the most feared warriors of the elvhen," Rhys began.

Fenris snorted, and inspected his sword as he listened.

"We embody the traits of Fen'Harel-cunning, intelligence, and most of all, a freedom of will. He saw that what his brothers and sisters were doing was wrong, and would rip the world apart. The Forgotten Ones and the Creators wouldn't cease their battles, and all of creation was suffering because of it. So he tricked them, telling each that he had a way to stop the other. In the end, he trapped them all away, stopping the fighting for all of eternity.

"We brand ourselves with lyrium, so that we may walk between worlds as Fen'Harel has done." Rhys lightly touched the markings at his throat. "There are no barriers, we can move through the Fade, or we can walk all over the waking world using the Eluvians. We are not organized, but we acknowledge the strongest among us. Some of us are liars, tricksters, and thieves. While others are protectors, warriors, and seek knowledge."

"What are you?" Fenris asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

Rhys spread his arms wide. "All of it. Those of Fen'Harel crave it all. We are neither good nor evil, but something in between. We are feared, and we are respected. I do what I wish, because the Creators have made me this way. I do what I wish, because the Dread Wolf marked me when I was young, giving me an inquisitive mind, and gifting me with the talent to kill swiftly with my blades. I asked for this, I wanted it."

"So where do your beliefs leave you when you are ordered to come to Weisshaupt?" Fenris asked. "Where do they leave you, when you are told that you and the others at Arlathan were to hide from the rest of the world?"

"You misunderstand me." Rhys lowered his arms. "I am not chaos. I have come here because I wished it. I followed the others into the endless sleep because I had thought it was the right thing to do. My brothers and sisters will make their own choices, but in the end, we always serve Fen'Harel, and we have agreed that we feel his touch on you." He flashed Fenris a grin. "I am afraid that means you are stuck with me, my friend."

"Lovely," Fenris murmured.

"Do you see what I am trying to tell you?" Rhys asked. "You are afraid. You are afraid of knowing how to use your markings to their full potential, because you believe it will change you. You must be fearless. It's only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly."

The world narrowed, and the edges of Fenris' vision turned white. "What did you say?" he rasped. He vaguely heard Anders' gasp, and the squelch of mud as the mage got to his feet and hurried over to them.

"Through adversity, and conquering your fears, you can reach your potential," Rhys reiterated. "When you fall, that is when you learn if you can fly. It is one of Fen'Harel's main teachings."

Fenris slowly turned his head to meet Anders astonished eyes.

"Flemeth," Anders whispered.

And so much… so much over the past few months, the past few years, slotted into place. Fenris was dizzy from the realization, from the amount of secrecy and manipulation. He reached out blindly and caught Anders' hand in his own.

The Dalish kept statues of wolves that represented Fen'Harel, turned away from their camps as a reminder to be wary of deception.

Fenris knew that none of them had been wary enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! I thought I had posted this on Monday, but I saved it as a draft instead.


	28. Chapter 28

The great dining hall at Weisshaupt had been cleared, and several tables had been pushed together to form a single large one. It wasn't ideal, but frankly, Fenris didn't think that Aedan cared anymore.

Those that had gone to Arlathan were seated at one end near Aedan and Zevran. Fenris' fingers fiddled with the bracelet that Merrill had made for him, while his eyes scanned those seated down the tables. There wasn't a single group or nation that wasn't represented in some fashion, and it was unnerving to see it.

Even the blighted Qunari were here. Fenris knew that it said a lot that the Qunari was no longer Sten, but Arishok now. The Qunari did not elevate one to Arishok lightly.

Anders leaned over to Fenris and whispered in his ear. "Think Aedan will just glare at them all and they'll go home?"

"I think he will try," Fenris said reluctantly. "But if doing it one on one hasn't worked, there is little to think it will succeed now. No, I believe that Aedan will have to see what we all do, that the magisters have taken things too far."

Aedan's chair scraped back as he stood, and Anders settled back in his seat. Fenris' fingers ran over and over the tightly woven hair on his wrist as he watched Aedan cross his massive arms, and wait for the hall to become silent.

Intimidation it would be then. Aedan was nothing if not persistent.

He also became tired of waiting. "Shut it!" His voice boomed in the hall and everyone fell silent, their eyes turning towards him. "Now we're going to do this fucking thing properly," he announced.

"You seem testy, Aedan," Alistair drawled.

Fenris kicked Anders under the table when the mage burst out in surprised laughter.

"Why don't we start with you, Alistair," Aedan said silkily. "We're going to go down the line and you are going to tell everyone who you are and why you are here. No lies… No bullshit. This isn't the time for it. Everything is going to get laid all out in the open. You came to my house, so you play by my rules. Are we clear?"

There was a general murmuring of agreement and Alistair stood. He gave a small bow. "Alistair, King of Ferelden. The magisters tried to kill my heirs and me a few months past. The way I saw it, I had two choices, either pretend that the threat was dead along with the assailant, or go to Tevinter and have them explain in person why they thought that was a good idea." He raised an eyebrow at Aedan. "Good enough? Or do I need to recite the Chant while standing on my head?"

Aedan rolled his eyes. "Please don't…"

"Viscount Marian Hawke, Kirkwall." Marian got to her feet, and Cullen rose as well. "My son was stolen out of his bed. I was told that if I played along with the magisters, that he would not be harmed. I do not stand idly by when I'm threatened."

"Not only did we bring the might of Kirkwall with us, but we brought Templars as well," Cullen added. "I did not ask for them to follow us, but they volunteered. A child was taken by blood mages, and they could not sit aside and watch it happen."

When they sat, the Arishok rose. "I am the Arishok. We are here to witness and aid in the downfall of our common enemy. We have claimed Par Vollen as our own, by right of conquest. Tevinter nips at us like flies, always buzzing. They are an annoyance, but even the smallest of flies can cause a swarm." He slid his eyes over to Marian. "The previous Arishok did not understand this. I will not make the same mistake." Having said as much as he was ever going to, he retook his seat.

Prince Vael, and Wynne rose in turn, and when they had said their piece, it was time for King Bhelen.

"King Bhelen, Orzammar. I—"

"No, bullshit, Bhelen," Aedan warned. "Tell them what you told me."

Bhelen narrowed his eyes at Aedan. "Don't try to intimidate me, boy. I'll say what I need to in my own good time." He stroked his fingers through his beard grimly. "Orzammar is gone. When we uncovered their plan, the magisters let the darkspawn into the city. We had to retreat into the tunnels to Kal-Sharok."

The room, which had been quiet before, became still. Then everyone spoke at once.

"Shut it!" Aedan yelled. "Let him fucking finish!" When everyone had grown quiet once more, Aedan nodded for Bhelen to continue.

"They came for the lyrium," Bhelen said. "When their plot to usurp me and put someone more to their liking in place didn't go like they had planned, they let the darkspawn in, cordoned off the city, and took what lyrium we had. If I hadn't…" Bhelen cleared his throat. "If I hadn't opened up talks with Kal-Sharok, then we would have had no place to turn to. What you see of my forces are all that is left of the dwarves of Orzammar. Kal-Sharok has pledged troops to our cause. If they did that to Orzammar, it won't be long until they turn to our brother city that sits so close to their borders." Bhelen sank wearily to his seat.

Fenris hadn't been able to figure out why the dwarves would have left for the surface for the flimsy excuse that Bhelen had given them. Now, it made a horrifying sense. He slipped his hand under the table, seeking and finding Anders' fingers. As he gripped the mage's hand tightly, a foreboding tripped its way down his spine. With the amount of lyrium they had taken, the magisters could be plotting anything-none of it good.

Next to Bhelen sat three people that Fenris felt didn't deserve to be here. He still couldn't believe that Aedan had let them out of the dungeon.

The Divine Cato stood, and Gaius rose with him. Feynriel stayed in his seat, but his eyes were filled with trepidation.

"I am the Divine Cato," the old man smiled, and his pale eyes sparked with an inner light. "Some of you will know me best as the Black Divine. The Archon is insane and-"

Fenris snorted, and Cato turned those kind eyes on the elf. "You are correct, my friend. More insane, I should say. Not only has he sent Tevinter headlong into a war that will cost untold lives, but he thinks he can reproduce the very thing that doomed Tevinter in the first place. I do not wish to see my countrymen killed in a war that is not of their making. I am here to plead on their behalf. Take Minrathous if you must, but do not destroy everything." He glanced next to him to Gaius. "We can have a new Archon, one that would be more willing to work with the other countries of Thedas."

Gaius inclined his head and they both sat down.

Isabela as someone that had contacts in Rivain, and Varric who had contacts almost everywhere else, went next. They were followed by Nathaniel Howe, who had said little beyond introducing himself.

Then came Leliana.

"My name is Sister Leliana," she began. "I am a Seeker. I have come on the behest of the Divine Justinia V. She felt it was time that certain truths were made known. She—"

The door to the hall banged open, and everyone turned towards it, some of them half rising out of their seats.

"Let me," Flemeth said as she strode into the room, her robes flaring out behind her. The doors slammed shut by an unseen hand. "It is about me, after all."

Morrigan, who had remained largely silent, rose to her feet. "Flemeth…" she said in a shocked whisper.

Rhys, who had been listening to the proceedings-thanks to Zevran translating for him-threw back his head and laughed.

"I'm glad you think this is so amusing," Morrigan snapped.

Ignoring her, Rhys got to his feet and gave Flemeth a bow with a grand flourish. "Tales will be told of your cunning," he said in Arcanum and with no small amount of amusement.

"Flemeth…" Aedan said. "Mind telling me what happened to the guards I had posted in front of the doors?"

"They're taking a short nap, none the wiser," she assured him. She turned her head and flashed a smiled at the room. "Aedan Cousland… You did exceed my expectations—all of you did."

She pointed at Fenris. "You brought back what had long been lost." Then she gestured at Morrigan. "Not only Arlathan, but you brought back someone that should have never left the Fade. A creature of beauty." She inclined her head at Anders. "If it weren't for you, then I fear the Gatekeeper would have slaughtered Morrigan and the child. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have remembered himself when he was brought back to the Fade. His remembrance will start others to recalling what they once were. It is no small thing, and long overdue. His friendship with you was a key that could not be overlooked. He would have reacted as he always does-implusively."

"Justice?" Anders said in shock. "You're talking about Justice aren't you?"

"It is what he goes by now. But he had another name once. All of the spirits of the Fade and demons had other names once. The Elvhen know most of them, but even they do not know them all. We were gods to them. We battled among ourselves, and split off into two distinct factions. The Forgotten Ones, and the ones that the Elvhen called the Creators. But that was a lie, we did not create. We did nothing except war among each other."

"So it is true," Leliana said. "You are Fen'Harel."

"That is one of the names I have gone by." Flemeth arched an eyebrow at the stunned room. "I think it is time to explain myself. I dearly love secrets, but sometimes the reveal is just as fun."

* * *

Anders couldn't let go of his grip on Fenris' hand. He could feel the tension in his lover, and see the angry set of his jaw. Fenris hated being lied to, and he hated being manipulated even less so. Although they had surmised Flemeth's true identity from what Rhys had said, to actually heart it from her lips was another thing completely.

Fenris was enraged.

"Wait, love," Anders cautioned in a whisper. "We need to see what she wants first."

"She wants chaos," Fenris muttered harshly. "I say we kill her now. She has done enough damage already."

If Flemeth could hear any of what Anders and Fenris were saying, she didn't show it as she continued on. "I saw what my brothers and sisters were doing in their arrogance, and sought to stop it. They would have destroyed all of mortal kind in their eternal war. So I went to them, promising each side that I would betray the other. I trapped them instead, used their arrogance against them. The Forgotten Ones I sent into the earth, trapped forever in sleep and in their dragon forms. The Creators I sent into the Fade, locking them away much diminished.

"For a time I was content, but then the humans came. Alone, I could not stop what was to happen next, and could only watch as they came and enslaved the Elvhen, destroying all that I had sought to protect. I was already depleted, so much smaller than I once had been."

"Don't act as if you did not rejoice in the chaos!" Fenris ripped his hand free from Anders and shot to his feet. "Do not act as if you are not self-serving."

"I do not claim otherwise," Flemeth said with a shrug. "With the destruction of Arlathan, I lost my most favorite children." She turned fond eyes on Rhys. "The magisters perverted what I had taught, using it to force open a door I had long closed. I used most of what I had left to punish those that had dared to enter into my Father's house. The Forgotten Ones had thought they could get free of the prison I had made for them. If they wanted freedom, then they should have it. But only when their puppets had dug through the earth like the vermin they were, finding them where they slept. I realized too late that putting them in the earth in eternal sleep and not in the Fade, was a mistake."

"And you doomed millions to die over the years!" Fenris slammed his fist down on the table. "Every time an Archdemon rose, people died. Every time the Blight tainted the land, people would grow sick. You say the Creators were arrogant? _You_ brought a plague on the land for no other reason than your pride."

"You are correct," Flemeth admitted. "I am what my Father made me, and my nature dictated that I think myself smarter and better than them all. I was cut off from so much of myself, and I was the one to blame for it. I ran wild and free, and in that freedom, I made mistakes. It wasn't until I sought to merge myself with another that I came to understand my very nature, and why my Father was so disappointed in his First Children. We do not change. Justice knows this now, and he is better for it, Faith knows it if she could only speak."

She turned her eyes on Wynne. "Merging gives us the chance for change, or it corrupts us. Justice learned what it was like to be corrupted, Faith and I, learned otherwise."

"Faith no longer speaks to me," Wynne said as she clutched her chest.

"She wouldn't," Flemeth acknowledged. "She is what keeps you alive, you are Faith now. Just as Anders was becoming Vengeance."

"Who?" Anders asked. "Who did you—"

"So many… We can hold the bodies for a very long time, but eventually, we have to seek out another. The first one I took was a woman named Flemeth. She called to me for revenge, and it had been so long since I'd had my named invoked, that I was compelled to answer. The second… I think your Seeker friend knows. It is why she came, is it not?"

Leliana looked shaken. "Andraste… We had suspected, but we hadn't been…"

"She was a strong mage, and a slave who wanted freedom for herself and for others. I helped her to achieve only a small part of it. But she died before she could finish her work." Flemeth met every person's eyes in the room. "All of you will finish what she started—we what had started. Tevinter is still here. The magisters have not paid for their crimes. They still hold the descendants of my favorite children as slaves. Andraste did not free the slaves, they are still there."

"That's it?" Fenris asked. "You just want the slaves freed. Pardon me for not believing your sincerity."

"You are pardoned." Flemeth laughed and Fenris scowled in response. "You are wise to doubt me. But I have waited for the right moment, for the right circumstances for longer than you can imagine. The Elvhen screamed for my help, for the help of those I had locked away. The sound of it still rings in my ears."

The smile she gave him was with sly knowledge. "For good or ill, you are marked as one of mine now. I will not abandon you again."


	29. Chapter 29

Anders lost his grip on Fenris as the elf surged forward. "I belong to no one. I'm not your fucking pet the way that Rhys is."

Instead of being insulted, Flemeth looked amused. "If you were born thousands of years ago, I would have marked you as mine. You were always to be mine, Fenris."

With a cry of rage, Fenris leapt on top of the table. He felt Anders grasp for him, and heard the shocked cries of the others, but it mattered little when it came to the overpowering urge to rip Flemeth's heart from her chest. His brands burst forth with light, and there were more shocked cries from those that hadn't seen it before. Quicker than most at the table could track, Fenris jumped towards her, his hands stretched into the claws that he wasn't wearing, his lips pulled in a snarl.

He hadn't counted on Rhys.

The breath whooshed out of Fenris as he was snatched from midair, and slammed into the table. Rhys' hands were around his throat, and he leaned over Fenris. "You should have paid more attention to me when I was trying to teach you." He gave Fenris a mocking smile. "I'm still faster than you."

The room had erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped against the floor, and several voices clamored to be heard at once. But Fenris only noticed one voice in the uproar.

"Get your hands off of him! Or, so help me, Maker, I _will_ kill you where you stand," Anders shouted in Arcanum.

"Enough!" There was a thump on the table near Fenris' head, and he could see large boots in his periphery. "Get the fuck off of him, Rhys. Everyone sit the fuck down!" There was a pause. "Someone better damned well tell Rhys to let him go, or else I'll take his fucking head myself."

Aedan then... No one else could shout and curse the way he did, not even Oghren at times. Rhys was doing no more than holding Fenris down, and he frowned at the elvhen. He had done nothing more than prevent Fenris from attacking Flemeth. Fenris could admit that when it came to the two of them, Rhys could snap him like a twig if he wanted to.

So why hadn't he?

"What are you up to?" Fenris accused.

Rhys gave him an innocent look that Fenris didn't believe for an instant. He'd seen the exact same thing on Anders' face enough times to know better. "Me? I'm just protecting my lord." He paused as Zevran delicately whispered in his ear. "Now I'm going to see if I can finish making my point." He released Fenris and drew away from him.

Grinning at Aedan who stood on the table scowling down, he leapt up to join him in one fluid movement. His landing was noticeably gentler than Aedan's had been. He glanced back at Zevran. "Translate for me, please."

He didn't wait for the assassin's assent before he started to speak. "My name is Rhys of the Elvhen. For days I have watched as your army does nothing but collect dust. All of you rage at the magisters, and yet some of you hesitate when you hear talk of war." With this he gave Aedan a significant glance.

"I don't care who any of you are. You will be nothing but half remembered legends when the magisters are through with you. My people were the strongest in what you call Thedas. We taught the humans the ways of lyrium, and how to touch the Fade. We were eternal. But Tevinter crushed us because of our arrogance."

He pointed at Bhelen. "Do you consider your warriors strong?"

"Of course," Bhelen blustered, his face turning red. "Few can match the dwarves."

"Yet Tevinter managed to drive you from your home." He glanced at each face in turn. "A child stolen, an attempt on lives made, is this not enough to understand the danger you are in? Why are we not already making plans to lay siege on the city? What is stopping you?"

He waved a hand at Flemeth. "A god walks among you, telling you that they must be stopped, yet you question it." He thumped his fist on his chest. "Do you even understand how many of us there were? How many were taken? How many were lost? Do you even comprehend that the Warriors of Fen'Harel were the mightiest that the Elvhen had to offer, and yet we still perished?"

He glanced down at Fenris who had slid off the table to stand next to Zevran. "They took lyrium? Then there can be only one reason why. That was how it had started with us. Those that escaped the slaughter of Minrathous told tales of how the streets had run red with blood. Demons roamed openly, and the magisters used the largest quantity of lyrium ever gathered in one place outside of Arlathan. If they took your lyrium, then they seek to make another like him, like the one they had made before. They will open the way to the City of the Creators.

"I leave tomorrow to report on what I have learned here. When I come back, it will be with the elvhen army at my side. If you are still 'talking' about what it is you must do by then, do not come to us later when Tevinter has razed your city, and taken your children to be blood sacrifices."

"What is he talking about," Sten asked.

Fenris closed his eyes. He had been dreading this very thing. He had been so use to people knowing what he was, and the small handful that knew why he had been created, that the sense of shame he had came rushing back.

There was the soft rustle of wings, and when Fenris looked behind him, Flemeth was gone. He growled under his breath. She had obviously accomplished what she wanted. Fenris just hoped that none of them would regret this in the end.

* * *

Anders huddled deeper into his fur lined cloak as he stared up at the night sky. This far north, and on crisp clear nights, one could see so many more stars in the sky then you could anywhere else in Thedas. Anders leaned back against a tower as he dangled his legs over the curtain wall.

Things had gone relatively well after Rhys' little speech. They had begun to make plans for once, and not even Aedan had any objections. Smart fucker that Rhys. That didn't mean that Anders liked him any better.

They had debated for hours, well into the day. There had been so many things to take into consideration, so many people that wanted to add their input that Anders was amazed they had gotten as far as they had in their plans.

Such as they were.

"You do realize we are all going to die a horrible death, right?" he asked Fenris who was just as bundled up as Anders next to him.

"Maybe not," Fenris mused. "But I grant you that too many things are contingent on being able to last long enough for those inside. The armies are being sent to die to do nothing more than buy us time."

The plan had several parts. It was agreed upon immediately, that breaching the walls of Minrathous was nigh on impossible. Doing so while having to contend with the Juggernauts was suicide. The Juggernauts needed to be stopped, or else they would fail and die before the gates. It had been Gaius who had told them that there was one single control rod for the golems, and that it was in the Archon's possession. If they could get into the city, and find the control rod, it would turn the golems against their lifelong masters, and the siege would be won.

But that required them to find the rod.

It had been Carver of all people who had suggested using the Eluvian. Marian had insisted that she be a part of the party that infiltrated the capital, and no one could tell her no when she stated with fierce eyes that she was going to find her son.

But to go through the Eluvian and get back, required Fenris-or at least, one of the Elvhen. By the time Aedan had called it a night and told them they would reconvene in the morning, they still hadn't hammered out the details.

Or more, Aedan had called a halt to proceedings when Zevran had told them that he would come with them to the city. He had contacts there, and if anyone knew how to get into the Archon's tower, or where the control rod was, they would.

Fenris snorted and Anders raised an eyebrow at him.

"It is strange to see others gainsay Aedan," Fenris explained at his look. "I am use to him telling others what to do, that I find it…"

"Strange? Weird? Kind of funny in a morbid way?" Anders asked.

"All of it. He doesn't like to have his control taken from him, but he will lose to Zevran in this as well. Gaius, Cato and Feynriel cannot be seen in the city. They cannot guide us. Zevran can."

"I'm not sure if I should be relived, or worried that we won't be with the armies, but inside the city instead." Anders had never been to war before. But he had heard enough from those that had. Some people excelled at it. People like Aedan, or even Carver and Oghren. Anders had never considered himself particularly heroic, and had never had the drive to actually run out on a battlefield like others did.

How very un-Anderfels of him.

The two sat in silence, looking up at the stars. Anders leaned over and rested his head on Fenris' shoulder. It wasn't the most comfortable position, he was taller than Fenris, but Anders didn't care.

"I want you to promise me something," Fenris said.

Anders didn't even bother to hide the rolling of his eyes. _Here we go again._ He sighed and blew out a breath, a little cloud puffing from his lips. "Is this where you tell me to be strong and move on with my life if you die? Cause you've told me that—what?—six, seven times? We aren't going to talk about this anymore."

"Just because you do not wish to discuss something, does not mean it will go away," Fenris said none too gently.

"Well how about this then," Anders countered. "How about we talk about what _you_ will do if I die, huh? Not too pleasant to think about, is it?"

There was a heartbeat of silence, and Anders felt Fenris stiffen under his cheek. Great, they were at the verge of probable death, and here they were fighting.

But Fenris surprised him.

"I suppose I would kill all those that had taken you from me, and then retire to the countryside. Where I'll raise cats and name each one of them Anders in your memory."

Anders could almost feel the strange sensation of his brain skittering to a halt. "Did you… Did you just make a joke? An off colored one about my death?"

"I wasn't joking," Fenris said in an offended tone. "I would truly name them all Anders. Do you doubt the depths of my devotion?"

There it was again. Pop! His brain really needed to stop doing that.

But this Fenris did not last long. "I _am_ sorry," he said, his voice somber. "I had not realized how uncomfortable I was making you. I do not wish to lose you again, especially to death that I can do nothing against."

"I know, Love. But we have more than enough time to be frightened for our very lives when we get there. I just don't want to dwell on it now." He felt Fenris' head turn, and then warm lips were pressed to the top of his head.

The companionable silence fell on them once more. Anders wanted to burn this into his memory, this peace away from the bustling fortress on this cold night. All those years ago, pining away for Fenris while they had been in Kirkwall, Anders had never dare imagine a night like this, or any of the nights they'd had together. Anders never wanted to take this for granted. Fenris had never given up on him. Even when the elf had professed to hate him, he still hadn't given up. He had never turned Anders into the Templars. He had never tried to kill him. Well, except for that time in the Hanged Man, but to be fair, he had thought that Anders had gotten Marian pregnant and ruined her life.

He owed so much to Fenris, but he didn't feel as if he _owed_ him. It was this unspoken, mutual understanding the two of them had, this desire to protect each other when the world would never look out for them.

Of course, that wasn't true anymore.

They had the Wardens, and Anders knew that if anything happened to him, that the Grey Wardens would make sure that Fenris did not follow him.

Great, now he was being morose.

_Thanks, Love_ , he thought snidely.

Anders could always count on Fenris to bring the horrors of grim reality crashing down on him.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both Fenris and Anders glanced to their right to see Zevran making his way towards them on the curtain wall. The assassin didn't wait for them to respond, or even invite him before he sat himself down next to Fenris.

"Please, Zev," Anders quipped. "Make yourself at home."

"I will. Thank you so much, my mage friend." Zevran flashed Anders a smile.

Ugh, Anders had been trying for years to get under Zevran's skin the way he could with everyone else, and so far, had made zero progress. What in the Void was he supposed to do with a guy like that?

Oh… That's right, mention that you want to sleep with his lover. That seemed to have set him off quite nicely. Although, Anders hadn't wanted to find that out quite in the way he had. His pride still stung from the cruel rejection, and he lifted his head from Fenris' shoulder to glare at the other elf.

"Don't you have someone to go yell at?" he asked.

Fenris slowly turned his head to face Zevran. Anders knew he was interested in the answer. He had told Anders that under no uncertain terms was he to talk to Zevran or Aedan about it again. Zevran had made his choice, and they needed to let it lie.

But that didn't mean he wasn't angry at the assassin for treating Anders so badly.

"Ah! About that…" Did Zevran just fidget? Oh, Maker, he really did. "I have come to apologize. I was not myself and treated you unfairly. Aedan has made sure that I am… occupied so that my mind does not wander into dangerous territory for the time being. It has helped."

Fenris opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it and shook his head. "You were patient with me when I was troubled after my Joining," Fenris said softly. "If Anders is satisfied, then let's _never_ speak of this again."

"Never?" Zevran arched an eyebrow at Fenris. "That would be a shame, would it not? Aedan would like to have a… private meeting with the two of you. I will be there as well of course. After all life is short, is it not? And if there was ever a time for such… meetings to take place, then it is before a war. Maybe you would not wish to speak of it after, and we would understand, but I hope that I have not completely ruined any chance for—"

"Stop!" Fenris huddled deeper into the hood of his cloak, so that his face was partially obscured. "I… That is… We…" There was an audible swallow. "I want to… If Anders still wants to…"

Anders leaned around Fenris. That was his Love, eloquent in all things, except in what he really wanted. "What he means to say is when?"

That grin of Zevran's was back, but this time there was a bit of heat leeching into his eyes. "The night is still young, yes? Shall I tell Aedan that you will be by shortly?"

Another swallow. "Yes. Tell him that we will be there," Fenris glanced at Anders, and the mage nodded, "soon."


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will continue the games. ^_~

There was no one in Aedan's study when Anders and Fenris entered quietly and shut the door behind them. Anders even took the extra precaution and flipped the lock for the door. The two men glanced at each other, and then to the door on the other side of the room, where Aedan and Zevran's bedchamber was located.

Fenris' heart thudded in his chest, a rapid beat that had started the moment they had told Zevran they would meet with them shortly. His fingers curled tightly in his palms and he took an unsteady step forward.

Once, he had asked Anders why he couldn't make his own choices where his body was concerned. It had been before the first time that Anders had taken him, and it had definitely not been the last. He would always bear a special kind of hate for the magisters. He would never completely trust mages. But this was something that he could do, a decision that was supported by his lover, the last vestige of Danarius' hold on him.

Fenris didn't fool himself into thinking that this one night would cure him of all of his anxieties from the sexual depravity that had been inflicted on him under Danarius' care. Life didn't work like that. But for Fenris, it was a step towards making a decision, and following through with it because he wanted it. Not because someone had cajoled or forced him into doing it, but because it was Fenris' choice.

Knowing all of that, made him no less nervous.

Fenris scowled and took several more steps towards the door. He knew if he turned around and left right now, that no one would hold it against him. That knowledge bolstered him, the understanding that there would be no judgment.

Before he knew it, Fenris was across the room and his hand on the latch. He looked over his shoulder to see Anders giving him a warm smile.

"Into the dragon's den, Love?"

Their eyes met and Fenris gave him a small nod. He pushed down on the latch, and the door clicked open.

Fenris' breath hitched, lodging in his throat, and he had to swallow several times to force it down. Aedan's bed was massive, taking up the center of the room. Which made sense, Fenris thought in a sort of daze, since Aedan was such a big man and he didn't sleep alone.

What Aedan and Zevran were doing in the bed, thought, definitely wasn't sleeping.

Aedan was propped up against the headboard, completely nude. His legs were spread wide, and Zevran's blonde head bobbed between his splayed thighs. Scars in varying degrees of depth and age crisscrossed along Aedan's body, marking the battles he had been in over the years.

"Oh, shit," Anders sputtered.

If Fenris' brain could have reconnected with his mouth, he would have agreed with the sentiment. Instead, he watched mesmerized as Zevran arched his back, lifting his admittedly well-rounded ass in the air. Fenris could see the assassin's erection dangling between his legs, and suddenly the air lodged back in his throat again.

It was a feeling he was going to become acquainted with several times over the course of the night.

Aedan looked up at Fenris and Anders though eyes that were heavy lidded. His lips parted on a moan, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. He gave the two of them a slow, seductive smile, and crooked a finger at them, beckoning them closer.

_I could still leave_ , Fenris thought. But even as the words went through his mind, he knew that he wouldn't. He just couldn't seem to get his feet to move, rooted to the spot as if he was pinned there by Aedan's penetrating eyes. His body jerked, startled when Anders slid his arms around his waist, and leaned down to rest his chin on Fenris' shoulder.

"We could watch, Love…" Anders began.

"No." Fenris' words were barely audible. "I want this." And he did. The second the words left his lips he was striding towards the bed. His hands found the hem of his tunic, and he pulled it off to drop it on the floor, neglected.

He put one knee on the mattress when Zevran lifted his head. Fenris paused, and there went that damn lump in his throat again.

"Andraste's tits!" Anders exclaimed from behind Fenris.

The… device that Zevran had given Fenris, and he in turn had used on Anders, had been horribly accurate. It wasn't that Aedan was monstrously huge, but he was a big man, and his cock was in proportion with the rest of him.

Zevran ran his tongue over his lips, his hand stroking up Aedan's cock. Fenris blew out a slow breath and climbed the rest of the way into the bed. Aedan curled his fingers around Fenris' forearm, and pulled him gently closer. He lifted Fenris' arm, holding it between them. Their eyes locked, and Aedan turned the elf's wrist over, exposing the bracelet of Anders' braided hair. Aedan's tongue snaked out and traced it, running his tongue over the tightly woven, blonde strands.

Fenris shivered. It was as if Aedan was touching both him and Anders, and everything they meant to each other. Aedan placed a kiss on Fenris' wrist, right below the bracelet. He flashed a grin, and his teeth nipped at the elf's skin.

It hadn't escaped Fenris' notice that Aedan hadn't spoken once since they had entered the room. The bed dipped behind him, and he felt Anders' slender fingers slide down his back. Aedan flicked his eyes to somewhere behind Fenris, and then glanced back. He winked at the elf, and yanked him abruptly forward.

Fenris landed sprawled out on Aedan's chest. He could feel the soft, dark hair that was sprinkled generously over Aedan's chest and abdomen rubbing against his skin. Aedan cupped the back of Fenris' head and leaned down. Their breath mingled, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

"Do you have any idea of how long I've want you?" Aedan asked, his voice a raspy growl.

Fenris' eyes flickered down to Aedan's lips, and then back up again. "Hm… Zevran is always telling Anders and me, that we have some unresolved tension between us."

Aedan chuckled, the sound low, and it made Fenris' breath stutter. "I found out a long time ago, that Zev usually knows what he's talking about." Then he crushed their lips together.

Fenris' eyes slid closed. He had only the memory of kissing three people in his life-Danarius, Carver, and Anders. He had the wild thought that this must be what it was like for someone to kiss him. Aedan's kiss was intense, something that consumed, and forced his partners to either comply, or break free completely. Fenris had never been kissed like this before, and at first, it frightened him in a way that he couldn't quite explain.

But Fenris wasn't one to be a passive participant—not anymore.

He threw a leg over Aedan, straddling him as he deepened the kiss. The two men warred with each other, each fighting for dominance with the kiss, using tongues and teeth. At one point, Fenris nipped hard enough to draw blood, and Aedan only gave another one of those low, seductive chuckles.

Fenris' cock strained in his breeches, and pushed against the tight lacing. For every inch that he lost to Aedan, he made up a moment later, until their mouths were devouring each other in harsh, sloppy kisses. Fenris' fingers speared in Aedan's thick, black hair. He gripped the strands tightly, forcing Aedan's head at an angle.

The world tilted and Fenris found himself slammed on his back, Aedan pinning him to the mattress. The kiss finally broke, the two men gasping for air, when Fenris yanked Aedan's head back using his hair. They stared at each other, their breath seesawing in and out between kiss swollen lips.

"It's my name day, isn't it?" Zevran said from somewhere to Fenris' left.

"Yours and mine both," Anders muttered.

Aedan laughed, and the tip of his tongue touched the cut on his lip. He raised an eyebrow at Fenris. "Are we at an impasse?"

Fenris hooked a leg over Aedan's waist, his bare foot digging into the small of his back. "You might say that."

Running a hand up over Fenris' hip, Aedan tangled his fingers in the laces of his breeches. With a few quick jerks, he had the flap open.

At some point, Anders had removed his clothes. He laid down on Fenris' right, placing his palm on his lover's cheek. Turning Fenris to face him, their lips met in a soft kiss. It was a strange juxtaposition, the difference between Anders' gentle kiss, and Aedan's devouring one. It settled some of Fenris' nerves, as Anders' familiar taste filled his senses.

The bed creaked when Aedan moved off of Fenris. Slender fingers—Zevran's, he was sure of it—hooked in the waistband of his breeches and slowly pulled them down his legs, taking his smalls with them. Once he was free of them, he rolled over on top of Anders. The mage gasped as their cocks slid along each other, arching his back as he sought further friction.

"So pretty, yes?" Zevran said, a teasing note in his voice.

"Yes," came Aedan's gruff reply.

Hands were on Fenris' back again, but this time he was sure they were Aedan's. They were large and callused from his daily sword work. A kiss was placed on the nape of his neck, and Fenris shuddered. He could feel Aedan's warmth behind him, and his hands came to slide around to Fenris' front, lodging in between him and Anders.

Anders sucked the breath from Fenris' lips when Aedan's hands wrapped around their cocks, pressing them together. Fenris broke the kiss, and his head dropped down, touching his forehead to Anders. Their eyes met and held, both full of heated need as their bodies writhed, shuttling their cocks in and out of Aedan's tight grip.

Their cries of pleasure radiated through the room as they fucked Aedan's fists. Fenris lowered his head and mouthed the column of Anders' throat, his tongue scraping over the ever present stubble. Pleasure whipped through him, and Fenris wasn't sure how much longer he would last.

Anders' hands clawed at Fenris' back, raking deep lines into his skin, his nails catching on the brands. Fenris had the presence of mind to whisper silkily in Anders' ear, his breath panting into his skin.

"Is this what you wanted? They're watching you. They can hear what a little slut you are, how much that ass of yours wants to be filled. Isn't that what you want, Anders? To have them watch you get fucked like a bitch in heat?"

"Oh… Oh, Maker!" Anders cried. "Please… Please!"

He caught Anders' earlobe between his teeth and tugged. "Tell them what you want, Anders. Let them hear you beg."

Anders shivered violently. "Maker… Fuck me… Just fuck me!"

Fenris soothed away the sting with his tongue. "No…" he growled.

The high pitch keening sound was something that Fenris had never heard Anders make before. If nothing else, hearing it made all of this worthwhile.

"So cruel," Zevran whispered. He had laid himself down against Anders' left. "Is Fenris always this way? Poor mage…"

Fenris kept himself still, his eyes on Zevran and Anders. This was it, wasn't it? He waited for the inevitable cloud of jealousy to descend as Zevran turned Anders' face and took his lips in a slow kiss. Tension leaked out of Fenris as he realized that it wasn't coming. Oh, it was there-just the smallest twinge, barely felt. But it wasn't the all-encompassing anger that Fenris had been expecting.

His lips quirked in a small smile and he mouthed at Anders' throat. "Don't feel sorry for him," Fenris murmured. "Anders knows that he only gets what he deserves."

Zevran gave the mage a sly glance. "Does he now?"

This was good. Focusing on Anders didn't give Fenris' brain enough time to latch onto things that had no place here. Like the way Aedan's heavy body felt on back, and Anders below him. On the surface, Fenris loved the warmth that surrounded him, but far below it there was an ugly voice, reminding him of the last time he was between another's legs as an erect cock nudged at him from behind.

Panic clawed at him, sinking its tendrils in deep. He froze on top of Anders, his eyes wide. Fingers touched his cheek and Fenris jerked, startled. The bed shifted and Aedan moved away, taking the some of the heat with him. Zevran scooted closer, half on top of Anders so that he could look at Fenris in the eyes.

"Do you know why I love my Aedan?" Zevran whispered.

Fenris blinked rapidly at the sudden question. "I…"

"Because he doesn't see me as an elf. He doesn't fuck me because I'm exotic. Don't get me wrong, I am very handsome and he knows it, but my Aedan loves me for me. He loves me for my actions. He loves me for the things I say." His deft fingers trailed down Fenris' jaw to the lyrium markings on his chin. "He does not say such things easily, but he wants you because he has been watching you for a long time, not because he is your commander and he feels it is his due." The assassin practically purred. "Do you have any idea of how hard he fucks me after the two of you argue? I must thank you for that."

Zevran's hand caressed over Anders' chest, his nails scratching slightly. The mage sucked in a quick breath at the small sting. "Your mage is such a naughty boy. Maybe we should make him watch for a little while and see how loud we can get him to beg, yes?"

Fenris blew out a slow breath between parted lips. Zevran was right. Aedan was not Danarius, and Fenris was not preforming against his will. He and Anders had danced around this very thing for years, using the idea of it as fodder for fantasies. It wasn't as if Fenris hadn't wanted it for a long time.

He and _Aedan_ had danced around it for years.

Fenris knew that there could have been nobody else that he and Anders could have asked to do this. Fenris trusted Aedan in a way that he had never really trusted before—except with Anders. And where Aedan went, Zevran followed. The jealousy wasn't there, because Aedan and Zevran had no interest in taking Anders from him, something that he couldn't ever be absolutely sure with anyone else.

He grinned at Zevran, flashing him one of those rare smiles. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

What had he gotten himself into?

Fenris pulled against the silken straps that tied his wrists to the headboard, arms over his head. He wasn't going to ask why Aedan and Zevran had them—that was abundantly clear. Anders was on his right, while Zevran lay against his left.

Zevran chuckled at the look of consternation on Fenris' face. "I said we should make him watch, I did not specify what."

On his knees between Fenris' outstretched legs, Aedan poured a generous amount of oil on his fingers. He grinned down at the three of them. "I think you both are wrong. It's defiantly _my_ name day."

Zevran rolled his eyes. "He will be insufferable for months because of this."

"Years, I think." Anders pressed his lips to Fenris' shoulder. He trailed more kissed up Fenris' jaw, and the elf turned capturing his lips.

Fenris' arms jerked against the bonds when he felt Zevran's hands caress down his chest. The assassin's fingers scratched over first one nipple and then the other, and Fenris gasped into Ander's mouth. He pulled back far enough to mutter to Anders. "Do it…"

"Are you sure, Love?" Anders' rubbed his thumb over Fenris' full, bottom lip.

"Do it," Fenris insisted.

Their gaze held as Anders touched one of the lyrium swirls on Fenris' chest. A jolt of magic ignited his brands, and Fenris moaned as his nerve endings came to pleasurable life.

"Maker," Aedan breathed.

Fenris writhed, his cock leaving wet patches on his abdomen as he rode out the sensation.

"I," Zevran said in awe, "am horribly jealous, right now."

Fenris turned his head to face the other elf. "I think that's the first time I've heard that, and actually believed it."

Zevran winked and leaned over to take his lips in a deep, slow kiss.

The three of them continued on like that for some time. Anders would caress Fenris' body, his fingers following the path of his brands, heating the elf's skin with his touch. Little sprinkles of magic in varying shades of intensity were sent into the lyrium, pulling at the markings, and playing Fenris' body like a well-tuned harp.

The kiss between Fenris and Zevran turned into something wild. They bit at each other's lips, their teeth occasionally clacking together, their tongues darting into open, wet mouths.

When the first tentative touch to Fenris' entrance came, he let out a low groan, spreading his legs wider. He was beyond any sort of hesitation or shame at this point. The fears were still there, but they meant nothing in the face of what these three men were making him feel—what he was _allowing_ himself to feel.

A slick finger entered him, and Fenris angled his hips upwards, his body accepting the digit readily.

"My Aedan," Zevran said in between kisses, "is very, _very_ good at this."

When the first probing touch against the spot of pleasure inside Fenris came, he knew that Zevran wasn't lying. He gasped, unable to pull enough air into his lungs. Anders' hand had found its way to Fenris' sac, and he was gently rolling the flesh in his fingers.

Aedan's finger was a constant rub inside Fenris, and the elf's cock twitched with each touch. He traced patterns with the pad of his index finger, gently pushing against the walnut shaped bump just inside. Fenris had had Anders do this to him before, but this was vastly different. He watched Aedan out of the corners of his eyes, his mouth almost slack against Zevran's lips. Aedan gave him a knowing smile, his eyes heated.

On and on it went, the insistent finger inside him, pushing at nerves in a way that Fenris hadn't felt before. He was on the constant verge of orgasm, but Aedan knew just how much pressure to use, just how much he needed to back off before building Fenris up again. It was like being jacked off from the inside, and if it wasn't for Anders carefully tugging his balls away from their inexorable climb towards his shaft, Fenris was sure he would have come by now.

Maker, he wanted to come.

He struggled against the bindings, his body dancing to the rhythm of Aedan's finger. Just one single finger and he was unraveling Fenris from the inside out.

And when Zevran and Anders crawled down the sides of Fenris' body, kissing along his ribs, and hips, Fenris knew that he was done for.

Two blonde heads met in the middle, their lips coming together in a sloppy kiss, Fenris' cock between them. When one tongue slid away from the head of his erection, another immediately took its place.

Fenris' heart hammered in his chest, and he had become incapable of even the smallest moan. His mouth went slack, and his eyes slid closed, too overcome to do anything but go where these three men wanted to lead him.

The lewd sound of Anders and Zevran licking wetly at each other and the cock between them filled the air. Fenris' head went back, digging into the pillow as a low keening sound, that at any other time he would have been mortified about, escaped his lips.

"Fucking beautiful," Aedan rasped. He pulled his finger free and replaced it with the middle one. He buried it up to the third knuckle, and rubbed over Fenris' prostate with shallow strokes. With each touch, the elf's cock dribbled out precum, Anders and Zevran tongues lapping at it, tangling with each other in their haste to get to each drop first.

Fenris found his voice, and nonsensical words tumbled from his lips. "Please… Please, please, pleasepleaseplease." He begged in Arcanum, even though Aedan couldn't understand him. He even burst out in the language of the Anderfels once or twice, filthy words that he had picked up from Anders over the years.

The silk that held him creaked dangerously as his body went taut, and his fingers wrapped around it to grip tight.

"Tell me how much you like it, Fenris," Aedan demanded. His tone was commanding, and it was like something went off inside of Fenris, his body and mind no longer under his own control. He should have been frightened by it, feeling the panic that he'd had earlier, but instead he reveled it.

"I want to hear you scream," Aedan said, his voice husky.

And that was all it took.

Fenris' mouth opened wide on a strangled scream and he came. His vision whitened around the edges as his body convulsed in one of the most powerful orgasms he'd ever had. Aedan, the wonderful bastard that he was, chuckled wickedly, that invading digit coaxing more and more cum from Fenris' body.

When Aedan finally pulled free, Fenris was still shaking, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He could feel as Anders and Zevran licked his cock clean, and he opened his eyes just enough to see them turn back to each other, their tongues tangling as they exchanged Fenris' taste.

His eyes met Aedan's and the First Warden grinned. "And that's just the foreplay."

_Foreplay?_

Fenris didn't think he would survive the whole show.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth the wait!

If Anders had been paying attention to the other men in the room, and not on the way Fenris tasted on his tongue, or how Zevran's hands smoothed over his hip, he would have seen the look exchanged between the three of them. As it was, he had no warning when Fenris abruptly yanked his head back sharply by his hair when the elf's hands were freed.

There were so many horrible things about being a Grey Warden-you took your chances each time you stepped into the Deep Roads. Very few Wardens ended their lives on anything other than the end of a darkspawn's blade, their bodies torn apart. Wardens hungered—they hungered for food, they hungered for battle, and they hungered for sex. Some Wardens were more affected than others, but the end result was the same.

The perks?

They could fuck until their bodies literally wore out. Something that Anders and Fenris had taken advantage of on more than one occasion.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at Anders, and the mage felt a delicious thrill of apprehension race through him. He loved it when Fenris looked at him like that, full of dark promise.

"You ready?" Fenris rasped, his voice raw from screaming.

Anders slowly licked lips gone dry, catching some of Fenris' flavor that he and Zevran had missed. "And if I say no?"

"You don't have a choice," Fenris told him. It wasn't true, but the two of them were already in the game, playing their parts.

"You're fucking disgusting," Anders hissed, but he couldn't quite keep the growing heat out of his eyes.

Tilting his head to the side, Fenris gave him a considering look. "Language…" His free hand shot out, cracking across Anders' cheek. The force of the blow was enough to turn his head, and Fenris gripped his hair tighter to keep him in place, the strands pulling sharply on his scalp.

"Now this," Zevran purred, "is a most interesting development, yes?"

"Yes…" Aedan agreed.

Anders' face was throbbing, but Fenris hadn't hit him hard enough to really do anything more than that. It was just a taste, a small tease of what was to come if Anders wanted it. He wasn't going to lie, Anders was a little bit afraid. It was one thing to pretend and talk about doing certain things with other people, it was another thing entirely to actually go through with it. Did he really want every time Zevran and Aedan looked at him, that they would remember just how perfectly Fenris could turn Anders inside out?

Anders had never really been one for hiding his needs and desires—he'd done enough of that when he'd been in the Circle, and when he and Justice had been one. Life was too Maker damned short for that. So when he got down to it, when he dug deep in the very things that made him tick, Anders knew that it wasn't necessarily fear, but nerves.

And desire—there was plenty of that.

Anders stilled his racing thoughts, and reached down into himself one more time, pulling the part of his self that just didn't give a damn to the surface. Since when had Anders ever balked at having an audience?

Fucking never.

With his head twisted to the side, Anders had to roll his eyes towards Fenris to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to hurt me?" he taunted.

Fenris' eyes flashed with heated interest, and then the world shifted. Fenris was deceptively slender and surprisingly strong, it never ceased to catch Anders off guard. His back smacked into Aedan's bare chest as Fenris pushed him into Cousland's waiting arms. Aedan's forearms wrapped around Anders' waist and chest, pinning the mage against him. Anders could feel Aedan's rapid heartbeat against his back, and he smiled softly to himself. Anders arched his spine, rubbing his backside against Aedan's erection until it settled in the crack of his ass.

He heard Aedan gasp, and he knew only a second of triumph before it turned into a dark chuckle that reverberated through him.

"Is he always like this?" Aedan asked.

Fenris pushed himself upright and sat with his knees bent under him. "Anders has a mouth on him. He likes to be reminded that there are better uses for it than to annoy me."

"Hey!" Anders exclaimed in mock outrage. He scowled when Zevran and Aedan laughed. "Come on now. It's not 'pick on the mage' time."

"That's where you are wrong, my friend," Zevran said. He crawled across the massive bed, his passing not even so much as making the well-stuffed mattress jump. He came to a halt in front of Fenris, and tossed Anders a meaningful look over his shoulder. "I think 'pick on the mage' is about to become the theme of this already delightful evening."

* * *

Anders' hands curled into claws, fisting the sheets beneath him. His ass and back were on fire from a hundred tiny scratches, courtesy of Zevran and Fenris. Aedan had contented himself with watching the two elves play with Anders like a well-tuned harp, plucking his strings. Maker, Zevran knew exactly how the human body worked. Anders hadn't even been aware of the sensitive spots the elf had touched on his body, how the scrape of teeth on the backs of his knees would feel, or how nails dragging down his sides from his armpits would make him moan and shudder in pleasure.

Or how to put just the right amount of pressure on Anders' throat in such a way as to prolong that floating euphoria that he loved.

Zevran was teaching Fenris new and inventive ways to torture the mage, to awaken his flesh to new sensations. Where Fenris had always been about overwhelming need and clawing desire, Zevran brought a certain sophistication to the games they played that Anders had never felt before. It wasn't better or worse, just different, and Anders reveled in it.

He was on his hands and knees facing the headboard, Zevran in front of him. Anders' body shook with the need to orgasm, his cock weeping all over the sheets. His abdomen was smeared with semen, some congealing, and some already dried. Around his fifth climax, Anders had lost count. His cock and balls had been bound up tightly, and those wonderful bastards had brought him close to yet another climax when Zevran had pinched the base of his cock, forcing it back. Anders had howled then, and Aedan had let loose with a dark chuckle.

The three of them were enjoying his humiliation and pain a bit too much.

Not that Anders was complaining, mind you.

"Don't bite down, Anders," Fenris said flatly from behind him.

Anders sucked in a shaky breath as Zevran moved closer to him on his knees. The mage's eyes tracked over Zevran's body, and the tattoos that shifted with each movement he made. There was one around his navel, swirling lines that surrounded the indentation and spread outwards. Anders had seen Zevran shirtless before, and he had never seen that one. The twin griffons of the Grey Wardens were still on his hip, and Anders grinned to himself as he remembered running his tongue over every single black outline.

Zevran's slender fingers threaded through Anders' short hair and pulled his head back. Andraste's tits, Anders couldn't wait until his hair got longer again.

"Don't bite down," Fenris reminded Anders again.

The mage eyed Zevran's erection as it approached him. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them in preparation. He knew what the two of them were going to do to him, and he felt his ass flex in anticipation.

Anders darted his tongue out, catching the head of the assassin's cock. Zevran gave him a pleased groan when Anders opened his lips and the elf's cock slipped pass them. He flattened his tongue along the underside, pressing it hard against the sensitive glans. Zevran thrust his hips, his cock shuttling in and out in shallow strokes. Anders' jaw ached-he had already gone down on both Fenris and Zevran once already. But he had paid attention, and knew by the sounds that the blonde elf made exactly what he liked. Where Fenris liked to thrust in deep, forcing Anders to choke on his cock, Zevran liked the tease, allowing Anders to do what he wanted.

Hands spread along Anders sore backside, massaging the muscles into relaxed complacency. Anders tried to concentrate on what he was doing, his head bobbing slowly back and forth, taking in more and more of Zevran's erection each time.

When the first blow came, Anders was ready for it—barely.

His ass felt raw, and it was sensitive from the repeated spankings he had already received. Anders grunted when a second slap hit his other cheek. It wasn't nearly as hard as Fenris was capable of, but it might as well have been. Anders' arms shook as the pain coursed through him once more, sending endorphins through his system. He'd gone through this so many times during the night that his brain had ceased to function properly. He felt drunk, riding on nothing but pure need.

Crashing from this night wasn't going to be pleasant.

Fenris started a rhythm that built up in increments, each blow coming in quicker behind the last, until Anders' hips were swaying, dancing under his lover's hands. Even if he could, he had no voice left with which to scream. Instead, he let Fenris know in other ways just how good the elf's touch made him feel. His ass rose and fell, begging silently for more. His eyes slid shut, unable to keep them open anymore. Zevran pulled at his hair, and the slight sting on his scalp was lost among the overwhelming pleasure/pain that Fenris was giving him.

Zevran was muttering Anders knew not what in Antivan, and he cried out when Anders swallowed him down to the hilt, his throat rippling along the shaft. The bed shifted, and Anders opened his mouth when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Aedan kneeling next to Zevran, a wicked grin on his face.

"My turn," Aedan said. He turned and pulled Zevran to him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss, tongues darting into mouths.

Anders didn't need to be told twice, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn't a little apprehensive. Never mind that there were a few fundamental differences between sleeping with an elf, and a human, something that Anders hadn't done in so long, he couldn't remember. There was a thick, dark trail of hair leading up from Aedan's groin to his chest. Anders felt his cock twitch in appreciation. He used to love that about a man, the hair that Anders could run his fingers through. That was until Fenris.

Anders tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue up Aedan's considerable erection. It hadn't escaped Anders notice that Aedan' hadn't orgasmed once, and he shivered. He knew what the First Warden was waiting for.

Aedan's cock was slick with precum, and Anders spent time cleaning it, memorizing Aedan's flavor, and what caused his cock to jump.

The hands on his backside left and returned, a slick finger probing his entrance. When the first digit entered him, Anders opened his mouth wide, engulfing Aedan's cock. He moaned when the second finger thrust inside him, and gave a muffled cry with the third. He let go of Aedan's cock with a lewd pop, and turned his head to capture Zevran's once more between his lips. His head worked back and forth in quick strokes, before moving back to Aedan. He rocked back on the fingers inside him, fucking himself on them.

Anders froze when Fenris gripped him hard by the hip, steadying him with one hand. His head would have dropped down between his shoulders as Fenris entered him, but Zevran yanked his head back. Two pairs of heated eyes watched his face when Fenris gave his first hard thrust, jerking him forward.

Maker… They were watching him. They had been watching him all evening, and seeing just how much Anders loved the degradation, the pain. How much he would whimper and raise his ass for every blow. How much he would moan and chase after cock with his tongue. His stomach muscles contracted sharply, and if his cock hadn't been bound he would have come right there, with their eyes on him.

Aedan smiled at him, and then his eyes flicked up, looking behind the mage. Anders didn't fool himself. Aedan had been waiting for one thing and one thing only this whole time. And if his intense, hot eyes were any indication, he was going to get it.

With one last deep kiss, Aedan moved away from Zevran, crawling around Anders. The mage panted, his hips rolling into the cock behind him, working himself on it.

Zevran stroked his free hand down Anders' stubble covered jaw. "We should have done this sooner, yes?" He glanced up and then back down to Anders. "So much sooner…"

* * *

Fenris turned his head and crushed his lips to Aedan's as he thrust into the mage. Aedan caressed down Fenris' spine as their tongues tangled, the tips of his fingers dipping into the crack of the elf's ass. Fenris gasped into his mouth, his thrusts stuttering.

"You going to let me fuck you, Fenris?" Aedan whispered, his voice more of a growl. "I've been waiting for you…"

Fenris knew that Aedan meant more than just this night. If he was being honest with himself, he had known it for years. He nipped at Aedan's bottom lip, pulling on the plump flesh. "Yes…" There was no hesitation in his answer, no prevaricating. If he had come here for anything, then this was it.

The kiss broke and their eyes locked—Aedan's assessing. "This won't change anything between us," Aedan said.

"You're lying," Fenris accused softly. He stopped moving inside Anders. "It will change everything."

Aedan's lips curled in a small smile. "I guess it will, but not in a bad way."

"No," Fenris agreed. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Aedan's lips. "But you are still you, and I am still me."

"I love you, you know," Aedan stated baldly. "I have for a while."

Fenris chuckled. "Not in the way you love Zevran."

Trailing his fingers back up Fenris' spine, he traced a line of lyrium. "Maybe not, but more than I love someone like Nate."

"Nate's like a brother to you." Fenris glanced over at Zevran and Anders. They were both watching them, Anders' head twisted to the side to look over his shoulder. "You never wanted to fuck him."

"Yes, he did," Zevran laughed.

"One time!" Aedan shouted. "One time I mentioned it to you, and you haven't let it go. That was years ago!"

"Our Nate is playing a game of cat and mouse with a certain Templar gone Warden." Zevran winked. "It has been most entertaining to watch."

Anders bumped back against Fenris to remind him that talking was the last thing they should be doing. Fenris turned to the mage and spread his hands up Anders' back, his nails scratching more patterns into his skin. He draped himself against Anders, and spread his legs wide, forcing Anders' thighs open in the process.

"Sorry," Fenris murmured. He rolled lazily into the mage.

"It's okay, Love," Anders moaned.

Love…

He had always known that Aedan cared about him, but he hadn't thought it was anything more than what he felt for any of the Wardens he was close to. Sure, he knew that Aedan had wanted him in his bed, in a way he had always known that, no matter how much he had tried to pretend otherwise, but to hear him say it… Aedan would take what he could get from Fenris and ask for nothing more that he was willing to give. If this was the only night they had, then the First Warden would be content with that. Fenris knew this, if he knew nothing else. There was a comfort in that knowledge, that were would be no pressure or recriminations after the fact. They all might be dead in a month, crushed against the great walls of Minrathous like every single army that had come before them. But right now… right now was for them, grasping for a chance at happiness wherever they could.

Fenris mouthed at the back of Anders' neck when he felt hands on his backside. He blew out a breath and forced himself to remain still when a slick finger circled his hole, occasionally popping inside before slipping back out again. Fenris smiled against Anders' skin. Aedan was being gentle. He didn't need to be, but Fenris wasn't going to tell him that. Despite his sometimes crude words, his temper, and occasionally alarming bloodlust, Aedan was a very caring man. He took care of everyone he felt he was responsible for. He was everyone's father, brother, uncle.

Fenris glanced behind him at Aedan. That… He had never truly thought about what it must be like for Aedan, the weight on his shoulders. He always seemed to carry it so well, but Fenris had to wonder how true that really was.

When the first finger pushed inside him all the way to the third knuckle, Fenris moaned. Zevran was watching his face with avid eyes, occasionally flicking upwards to glance at Aedan. It was like the assassin was trying to memorize every detail-every shudder, every groan of pleasure. Zevran bent at the waist and captured Anders lips in a kiss, distracting him while he waited.

Aedan took his time, winding Fenris up with each caress of the finger inside him. When the second finger entered him the elf bite down on Anders' neck, sinking his teeth into the straining flesh. It had been hours since Aedan had touched him like this, but his body remembered, opening up to him easily. The third finger, and then Aedan twisted his wrist, rubbing against that spot inside him. Fenris' head jerked up and he groaned in approval.

"Stop toying with me," Fenris growled. "Fuck me."

Aedan came up behind Fenris, his cock slotting in the crack of the elf's ass. "Say it again…"

The elf gave him a baleful glare out of the corner of his eye. "No…"

Sliding his hand between Fenris' legs, Aedan gripped his balls gently, rolling them between his fingers. "Say it…"

Fenris hissed out a breath between clenched teeth. To make matters worse, Anders squeezed his ass, tightening around the cock inside him.

"You're going to pay for that," Fenris whispered in the mage's ear.

"Promises, promises, Love," Anders moaned back.

The head of Aedan's cock probed at his entrance, pushing insistently, while Anders' squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed.

"Fuck me!" Fenris shouted, his mouth slack and panting.

Aedan gave Fenris' shoulder a quick kiss and thrust inside in one movement.

Fenris let out a strangled scream. He hadn't been expecting that, and Aedan was so much bigger than a mere three fingers. His ass burned, and he lay gasping against Anders' back while Aedan rubbed circles on his spine.

"Asshole," Fenris hissed.

There was another one of those damned dark chuckles. "Never claimed to be otherwise," Aedan murmured. He pulled back agonizingly slow, before slamming back into Fenris again. All pretenses to gentleness were gone, and in its place was the intensity that Fenris had felt in Aedan's lips when he had first kissed him. Aedan fucked like he did everything else in his life. It was raw and primal, grunts issuing from his lips at each thrust, his hands gripping Fenris' hips tightly for leverage. Each time he slammed home into the elf, he pushed Fenris into Anders. Fenris learned to time his withdrawals, and the three of them surged against each other, the slap slap of flesh punctuating groans of pleasure, and the wet sucking of Anders' lips on Zevran's cock.

It was all so surreal, this hedonistic pleasure, sweat dripping over heated flesh, the cock driving into him as Anders rutted back, his ass rippling every time Fenris thrust forward, aided by Aedan behind him. And when Anders reached behind him to touch Fenris' thigh, letting a trickle of magic slip through his brands, Fenris felt his mind ignite.

Nonsensical words tumbled form his lips. He didn't know what he was saying, only that he needed to speak, the words ripped from him, rising above the answer cries of pleasure. He told Anders how much he loved him. He urged Aedan on, telling him, 'please, please, please,' and 'more, more, more', crying out in Arcanum.

His hands scrambled under Anders, and his fingers fumbled with the leather cord that held the mage's orgasm at bay. With a quick, artless tug, the cord came free.

Anders screamed.

This last orgasm, long denied, was finally able to reign free. Anders' whole body shook as he rode out the waves. The mage made a sobbing sound of relief, a keening noise that rose in pitch as he came.

Fenris didn't give him any chance to recover. His thrusts became wilder, his own orgasm so damned close. In front of him, Zevran's hooded eyes watched Aedan. The assassin's cheeks were flushed red, and he moaned when Anders once more took him down to the base of his cock, finishing what he had started.

Aedan spread his hands across Fenris' chest, urging him upright. The elf's back was flush against Aedan's chest, and he turned his face to the side, arching his neck to meet Aedan's lips in a fierce kiss. Fenris didn't know how much more of this he could take. Every thrust of Aedan's ignited fire along his nerves, touching deep inside him.

There was a low moan, and Fenris opened his eyes just enough to see Zevran as the other elf came. His head was thrown back, his blonde hair trailing over his shoulders, and his lips parted on a wordless cry of satisfaction.

"So fucking beautiful, Zev," Aedan gritted out. "Love to see you… Love…"

Hearing Aedan's broken words-that he was just as affected as Fenris-was what did it for him. Fenris gasped into Aedan's lips, and then the world went white around the edges. His hands slapped behind him on Aedan's hips, his nails digging into the First Warden's skin as his cock jerked and he came. He clutched Aedan to him, pushing him in deeper and deeper as his orgasm crashed through him.

"Ah…" Aedan gasped. "Ah, fuck yeah…" Aedan gave three, shallow jerks of his hips before he came, his hands clenching and unclenching on Fenris' chest.

Slowly, Aedan sank backwards, taking Fenris with him, and pulling him from Anders. They kissed lazily, panting into each other's mouths.

Aedan pulled back. "Still good?" His voice was a bit shaky.

Fenris swallowed a few times before he could find his own voice. "Yes…"

And then he showed Aedan something that only Anders had really seen before.

Fenris gave him a genuine smile.


	32. Chapter 32

Fenris watched the griffon take off, Rhys on its back. He shivered, not because the aviary was cold, but because this was the first time he had been in the room for any length of time since he and Aedan had discovered Zevran, and uncovered the demons that had taken over Weisshaupt.

"Well that was awkward," Anders drawled. "What in the Void was that supposed to mean?"

Fenris shook his head and turned towards the door. "I think Rhys meant exactly what he said. Going after Tevinter is personal for him. I have a feeling that he would have tried to storm the city on his own if no one else was going to do it." Fenris pushed through the door and moved down the spiraling flight of stairs, Anders behind him.

Fenris was groggy, tired, and even though Anders had healed his body and soothed his sore muscles, Fenris could swear he was feeling phantom pain in his… Fenris almost stumbled on the stairs, and he heard Anders chuckling behind him. Anders had had an almost permanent, smug grin on his face since the two of them had woken up on Aedan and Zevran's bed. It was… a little grating. Thank the Maker, the dwarven Ancestors, and the elven Creators that the mage hadn't said anything yet, or else Fenris knew he just might snap. He needed time to process what had happened and what had been said, before he was going to be ready to talk about to it Anders. Thankfully the mage seemed to sense that.

It didn't wipe that damned smirk off his face, though.

"But his brother," Anders said in a low whisper, "Maker…"

Fenris grunted in agreement. Before Rhys had left to rejoin the elvhen, he had told Fenris that he reminded him of his younger brother. His younger brother that had been one of the many that the magisters had used in their twisted ritual to open the Golden City. The brother that had been the only elvhen to survive.

Although Fenris didn't appreciate it, he understood now why Rhys treated him like a child. Fenris was in the same position that Rhys' brother had been in so long ago, and Rhys didn't want to see history repeat itself. He wanted Fenris ready for whatever would come his way, and not become a tool of the magisters.

Rhys' methods left a lot to be desired.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Fenris turned left instead of right. He had let something linger for far too long. He knew it was time to do something about it, and act like the friend he was supposed to be.

Maybe it was because of the emotional and physical upheaval of the night before, but Fenris had awakened to a few realizations. One of which, was that a good friend had needed him, and he had done nothing about it.

He and Anders had stopped by their room to clean up and dress before heading to the aviary to see Rhys off. Fenris had purposefully dressed in his full armor, his greatsword slung on his back. He tapped the clawed tips of his gauntlets together, the sound clicking in the nearly empty hallway.

"Where are you going?" Anders asked as he hurried to catch up with Fenris. He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. "Food. That way."

"You go on ahead," Fenris said flatly. "I have some business to take care of."

"Oh, no. I know that tone of voice, and you're up to something." Fenris could tell the exact moment when Anders realized where they were headed. "Maker damn it! Love, this isn't a good idea. You might just make things worse for him."

"I don't think I will," Fenris intoned. He flexed his fingers as he stopped in front of a door. "If you don't want to be here, you should go. I'll be in the dining hall shortly." He raised his fist and pounded on the door.

He saw Anders roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest in his periphery. "Yeah, no. Someone has to be level-headed and make sure you don't kill them. And Maker help you that I have to be that person. Because let's face it, I'm not the most level-headed—"

He was cut off when the door opened. A gruff looking man with far too much blonde hair on his face, and far too little on his head scowled down at Fenris. "Wha' ya want, knife ears?"

Fenris ignored Anders' soft curse and ran mocking eyes over the soldier. He wore the livery of the King of Ferelden, and Fenris happened to know that his name was Hayden.

He also knew that he was one of the men that had been threatening retribution on Carver.

"Do you know who I am?" Fenris asked, his voice eerily calm.

Hayden sneered, exposing a chipped tooth. "No. All you knife ears look alike ta me. Now get the fuck outta here." He made to slam the door in Fenris' face, but the elf was quicker. His hand shot out and his fingers curled around the edge of the door, stopping it in its tracks. The tips of his gauntlet dug into the wood, gouging deep lines.

Fenris continued on as if Hayden hadn't spoken. "Does the name Carver Hawke mean anything to you? Because I've heard some very disturbing things about you concerning my friend. It seems that despite making reparations to the man that Carver assaulted, you and your friends have taken it upon yourselves to harass him. If the victim has accepted his apology and so has your king, then I think it would be best that you stay as far away from my friend as possible."

Hayden turned a mottled shade of red. "Listen here," he blustered, "that shit stain can't just go walking around attacking people. You Wardens think you can do whatever you want and get away with it."

Fenris lowered his head and looked at Hayden through dark lashes, his eyes glittering chips of hard edged emerald. "It is done. This no longer concerns you. It never did in the first place."

"And it concerns you? Get the fuck outta here, and tell Hawke that this isn't over while you're sucking each other's pricks."

Fenris' lip curled in a patronizing smile. "That would be hard if I have his dick in my mouth. At least think before you come up with an insult."

Hayden gave an almost wordless cry of rage and drew his fist back.

"Oh, fuck," Anders muttered, "here we go."

With a flash, Fenris' brands ignited and he moved quicker than Hayden could see. He caught the other man's fist in his palm. Pushing pass the doorway, his other hand plunged into Hayden's chest in one swift movement.

Fenris drew his face close and peered in Hayden's panicked eyes. "I'm not as nice as Carver."

"More like Nate is nicer than all of you," Anders mumbled.

"And I think you would be well advised to leave well enough alone. Don't make me show you what your heart looks like. Call off your dogs. Carver has paid the man a goodly sum, and given a public apology—both were accepted. Back off, or else you'll find out firsthand how it really feels to have your every move stalked. Am I clear?"

Hayden's mouth opened and closed, and he jerked his head franticly in a nod.

"Good… If I find out that Carver Hawke has been cornered by you and your cohorts after this, I'm going to hold you personally responsible." Fenris tilted his head to the side. "Then I'll rip apart your friends." He jerked his arm back and let Hayden fall to the floor, gasping for breath.

Fenris turned to walk back out to the hall, and he paused. "You might want to get yourself cleaned up. You smell like piss now," he said without as much as a backwards glance.

* * *

Carver paced back and forth in his sister's room. Cullen and Marian watched him, his sister's face expectant, and Cullen's carefully guarded.

"I don't know about this," Carver hedged. He stopped in the middle of the thick rug and turned to face them. "Fuck, Marian, I want to get him back as badly as you do, but—"

"No, Carver. You don't. No one wants to get Malcolm back as badly as Cullen and I do. I don't care about the consequences. We can't wait another month for the armies to converge on Minrathous. If Fenris agrees, I mean to leave tonight to get my son back."

Carver threw his hands up. "The city was in chaos when I was there. Shit, Marian, we were lucky to make it out. If the magisters are concentrating on what's going on outside the walls, then they won't expect us. We follow the plan. We go in, find Malcolm, and get the control rod for the Juggernauts. Aedan is going to bring the mirror so we can escape the city and give the rod to Wynne." He pointed at Cullen. "Cullen, you, me, Fenris, Zevran and Anders. We go in and get the Void out before they know we're there. The armies outside will provide a distraction. Once we have the rod and are safely back with the army, we turn the Juggernauts against the magisters. If we leave now—"

"If we leave now I can see with my own eyes that my son is still alive," Marian hissed. "If we leave now, that lessens the chance of the magisters finding out that we brought an army, and then following through on their threat by killing Malcolm." She shot to her slipper clad feet. "I don't care about your fucking war! I just want my little boy back!" Tears spilled down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands.

Carver took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her resistant body into an embrace. "I'm so sorry, Marian," he muttered into her short, dark hair. "I…" He blew out a breath and glanced over at Cullen.

Cullen didn't always show his emotions on his face. He could be closed off at times, a byproduct from having been a Templar for so long and seeing the things he had. But his emotions were clear for Carver to see, his anguish as he gazed at his wife open and naked. Carver had to look away from it, unable to deal with the older man's pain.

"All right," Carver breathed in resignation. "I'll… I'll talk to Fenris and see if we can't figure out something. Just don't… Just don't do what you always do, okay?"

Marian lifted her tearstained face. "And just what is it that I always do?"

"Make impulsive and dangerous choices. You like to rush headlong into things. Maker, you're worse than Anders or Merrill."

She gave him a weak smile. "Hawke family trait, Brother. Don't think you're exempt."

* * *

It wasn't Fenris that had come up with a new plan, it had been Zevran. Maker, but the elf could be frightening in the way his mind worked.

Carver walked in front of the closed door for what had to be the tenth time. And for the tenth time, he stopped in front of it his hand poised to knock, only to lower it and pace some more.

They would need at least two days to see if the plan was even feasible, and if it was, Maker, help them all. Allying themselves with darkspawn of all things. Later in the evening, Feynriel would attempt to contact one of the elvhen and explain what they had in mind. Depending on their answer, one of a few things would happen.

If they had a working Eluvian, one not buried under the city, then the armies would ready to march immediately. Once they reached the walls of Minrathous, they would use the Eluvian to transport the elvhen army right to them.

If not…

If not, then they would try and get the elvhen to agree to take to the Deep Roads, using the Architect's extensive knowledge of the underground passages that would lead them to Minrathous. It would shorten the Elvhen army's journey by weeks.

Zevran was advocating to do both, utilizing the Eluvian if they could to bring the Elvhen to them, and using the darkspawn to come up from right under the magister's feet.

It was a horrifying thought, and Carver had doubts it would even work. The Architect had freed darkspawn before from the Archdemon's song, to disastrous results. Could they even trust anything that he could bring to the table?

Carver didn't think so.

Still, no matter which way they were able to go, it would move up the time table by several weeks, shortening the chances of Minrathous preparing for an assault, and getting Marian that much closer to having Malcolm back in her arms.

Feynriel had said it might take him a few days to communicate back and forth with the Elvhen in dreams. Carver just hoped he would bring back good news.

He ran his hands over his face and groaned. No matter which way he looked at it, his part would always be the same. He would be joining the others in Minrathous to look for Malcolm and the control rod. There had been no question that he would help look for his nephew, but that wasn't what had Carver pacing in the empty hallway.

Things were coming to a head, and he might not make it back. He felt that he needed to be realistic about his chances. Malcolm and the control rod came first, no exceptions. Carver was prepared to lay down his life for that little boy, but something kept giving him pause, the hint of regret and things left unsaid.

But that summed up Carver's life-unspoken words, and never reaching for what he really wanted. But he was about to take a huge risk, and the part of him that always balked at doing something risky that could make him happy, reared its ugly, and too often seen, head.

So here he was, pacing in front of Nathaniel Howe's door, trying to talk himself into knocking. He paused and straightened his plain brown tunic. This was ridiculous. He was willing to jump through a magical portal and enter one of the most dangerous cities in Thedas, but he couldn't bring himself to knock on a damned door.

What's the worst that could happen?

What he knew of Nate he liked, almost too much, and if Carver was being honest with himself, he was scared. But with a probable death looming over him, tapping on his shoulder and reminding him that he didn't want to go out without saying something to yet another person about how he felt, he had ended up in front of Nate's door before he had even realized he had made the decision.

The latch to the door clicked, and Carver whirled around to face it. Nate peered through the doorway, and raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "You were standing out there for so long I thought I would just go ahead and invite you in."

"I…" Carver scratched at the back of his neck. "How did you—"

"You were muttering to yourself."

Great. Perfect. Carver needn't have worried about embarrassing himself by knocking on the door. He had been doing just fine humiliating himself in front of his unknown audience.

Nate gave him a small smile and stepped back, gesturing for Carver to come in. When Carver hesitated, Nate tilted his head to the side. "Is this about what Fenris did?"

That got Carver moving. He stepped over the threshold and Nate closed the door behind him. "No. Maker, what was he thinking? He could've made things worse."

Nate laughed softly behind him. "If Fenris is nothing else, he is fiercely protective towards those he cares about. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised he didn't do it sooner."

"I guess I should be thankful he didn't disembowel the man, and leave his intestines strung up for the maids to find." Carver stared down at the rug under his boots, studying the intricate weave. It was a safe place to look, anywhere but the large bed that took up a good portion of the room.

"Then why are you here?" came Nate's voice in his ear.

Carver jumped. Maker, he hadn't even heard Nate move. The man could be as eerily silent as Zevran when he wanted to be. Close… Nate was too close. Carver cleared his throat and look at the bare wall beyond Nate's shoulder. He breathed shallowly through slightly parted lips. That damned hunger rose inside him, and he clenched his hands into fists to force the clawing need down.

"Carver?" Nate placed a hand on his shoulder and Carver jerked free, taking a step back.

"You have no idea, do you?" Carver blurted out.

Nate shook his head. "I don't—"

Striding forward, Carver crowded Nate, getting into his space. He dropped his head down, his lips inches from the other man's throat, and inhaled deeply, breathing in the other man's scent. It was the mixture of leather and male, so very different from anything else that Carver had come across before. It was heady, and it never failed to bring something primal out in him. "Do you know what you do to me?" Carver asked. "I find myself straining to hear your every word. Your voice… Your smell…" He breathed in again. "Fuck… I know where you've been just by this wonderful scent that lingers in the room." He saw Nate's pulse jump in his throat. "I want—"

"What do you want, Carver?" Nate asked softly.

Carver flicked his eyes up. "You."


	33. Chapter 33

Nate speared his fingers through Carver's hair. Angling Carver's head to the side, Nate crushed their lips together. Carver groaned into the kiss, his arms coming up to clutch at the older man's shoulders. Nate's tongue delved into Carver's mouth, and he growled in appreciation when the favor was returned.

The kiss broke and the two men stared at each other, gasping for breath. Nate released Carver, sliding his hands over Carvers' cheeks and neck, touching his smooth shaven jaw and the thumping pulse at his throat, before stepping back.

"I can't do this again," Nate said. "Tell me that this isn't just because of the Joining. Tell me that I'm not going to wake up in the morning to find you gone."

Carver reached out for him in dismay. "No! I'm not going to lie, the Joining might have… It's not like that, though. Don't you understand that I have the same fears? I've given my heart twice in my life, and both times have ended…" He drew in a sharp breath. "None of us have the luxury of second guessing ourselves anymore. Trust that I mean it when I say… when I…" Carver gave a frustrated cry. He was on Nate before the other man knew Carver had even moved. He backed Nate up against the bed, pushing him when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He followed Nate down, landing on top of him.

Bracing his hands on either side of Nate's head, Carver stared unflinching into his eyes. "I love you. Maybe in another time I would have hesitated, fought it more, but I can't. I don't know if I'm going to come back from Minrathous. I don't know if you will. I have to make sure my sister and my nephew make it out alive. Nothing else matters but that. I don't want any more regrets. I don't want to have yet another time when I should have said something until it was too late. I don't—"

He was cut off when Nate lifted his head, silencing Carver with his lips. Grasping Carver by the shoulders, Nate rolled the younger man under him, slotting himself between his legs. "You're coming to the Vigil with me when this is all over," Nate said gruffly. It wasn't a question but a pronouncement. "I was… I was going to let you come to me on your own. I'm glad you did. I didn't want to have to come and drag you to bed."

"Yes, ser, Warden-Commander, ser." Carver's fingers went to the buckles holding Nate's leather jerkin shut. "Are there any other orders, ser?"

Nate sucked in a breath at Carver's tone. He had never been one for playing games in the bedchamber. Isabela had taught him differently. There had been times when he'd do ne it just to please her, while other times had been on his own initiative. He felt the leather part and he let Carver slip the jerkin off his shoulders. Nate lifted one hand off the sheets, and then another, as the jerkin was pulled free and flung off the end of the bed.

"Depends, Warden Hawke," Nate rasped. "Are you going to use that Templar training of yours and keep yourself alive?"

Their locked eyes and Carver was the first to look away, turning his head to the side. "I have to save Malcolm. I can't promise something like that."

"That's not what I'm asking," Nate insisted. He pushed his fingers against Carver's jaw, urging his face back. "You're reckless, at least when it comes to your own well-being. I've asked around about you, and I've seen it myself. You don't have anything to prove, Carver."

If anyone knew about doing reckless things because they thought they had something to prove, it was Nathaniel Howe. He had tempered himself over the years, but he would never forget breaking into the Vigil with the intention to kill Aedan. He saw a bit of himself in Carver, that yearning to show others that they could stand out from under a family member's shadow. His whole young life, Nate had had to hear how he had to prove himself worthy of the Howe name. Running to the Free Marches had been his first act of real defiance, and it had almost killed him to come back to Ferelden to find his father dead, and the whole of Thedas thinking he'd been a traitor. As much as he had resented his father, the ingrained pride of the Howe name had had him baiting Aedan Cousland in a dungeon cell.

When he though on it now, Nate knew that he couldn't have ever killed Aedan and gotten away with it. Never mind that Aedan had become a good friend. Even if he had been able to best the Hero of Ferelden in combat, Zevran would have hunted Nate down and made sure his death was painful and prolonged.

He knew the kinds of things that one could be driven too when they thought they had something to prove to the world. Nate had been lucky to have Aedan and his sister in his life to talk some sense into him. Well, more that his sister did that part. With Aedan, Nate had been forced to be the one to talk sense, thus creating an environment where he'd had to examine his own actions.

"Are you ganging up with my sister now?" Carver asked with no trace of heat in his voice. "She's been telling me that my whole life."

"You should listen to her, she loves you."

Nate could see the hesitation in Carver's eyes before they softened. "And you?"

"I love you too."

After that, Carver couldn't say how they managed to get out of their clothes, flinging them haphazardly off the bed. It had been a tangle of limbs, sloppy kisses, and caressing touches, their hands moving over each other as new skin was exposed.

Carver had ended up on top, moving down Nate's body towards the erection he could feel pressing insistently against his stomach. It had been so long since he'd felt another's skin against his own, the heat leaching into his body and causing droplets of sweat to trickle over his skin. He nipped at the juncture between Nate's hip and groin, soothing the sting away with his tongue. He breathed over Nate's cock and watched as a bead of precum slipped free.

"Remember when we were hiding from the king's men?" Carver whispered. "I wanted to do this to you so bad." His tongue darted out and he ran a long, wet line up the shaft in front of him.

"Maker…" Nate hissed between clenched teeth. "For the record, I wouldn't have been opposed to it."

"I'll remember that for the next time we're hiding in a broom closet," Carver assured him. His lips parted and wrapped around the head of Nate's cock, his tongue lashing at the glans on the underside. He was rewarded with a moan of pleasure and the tang of precum on his tongue.

For a moment, Carver had the fear that he wasn't going to be any good at this. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone, and he and Fenris had only slept together the one time. Nate had been with Isabela off and on for years, and she was not shy when it came to talking openly of her skills.

His eyes hardening into steel, Carver made up for the lost years with enthusiasm. He listened to the noises that Nate made, the times when he would moan and when his breathing would hitch. He may not be able to take the older man down without choking, but he was going to make sure that Nate didn't notice the lack.

Nate's fingers scrambled to clutch at Carver's hair, tugging at the dark strands. Carver responded by wrapping his hand around the base of Nate's cock, sliding the hardened flesh through his fist in time with his mouth. His other hand cradled Nate's sac, rolling them gently between his fingers. He could feel their inexorable climb towards the base of the other man's cock, signaling his oncoming climax.

One of Nate's hands left Carver's head to smack on top of the sheets, balling the material up in his fist. Carver felt a moment of triumph that he had made Nate feel like this, that the other man needed something, anything, to hold onto to keep him grounded.

As Nate's cock swelled under his tongue, that triumph grew. Carver was almost impossibly hard now, so turned on that he was the one creating the noises that were issuing from Nate's lips, that it was his name that came strangled out from Nate's throat as his cock jerked and released.

Carver licked him clean, greedily swallowing every drop that Nate's body had to give to him. This was his now. As he rose up to crawl over Nate, taking his lips in a deep kiss, he saw the way the other man looked at him, so different from how Fenris and Merrill had.

When Nate had said he loved Carver, he believed it.

Pushing another slick finger into the man under him, Nate watched the growing arousal in Carver's eyes. He leaned down to kiss him again. Nate couldn't get enough of kissing Carver-the way he would sigh into Nate's lips, or how he used his whole mouth, his teeth tugging on Nate's bottom lip, his tongue darting inside. It was heady, and Nate swore to himself that he would make sure that the two of them spent every moment the Maker was willing to give them together doing just that.

Well, not just that.

He angled his fingers just right and Nate arched his back into them, crying out. Breaking the kiss, Nate leaned down and took a pert nipple between his lips, lashing at the stiffened flesh with his tongue as he pulled his fingers in and out, opening Carver up.

"That's… enough," Carver moaned. His hands were above his head, gripping the pillow tightly. His legs were splayed wide, his cock rock hard and twitching with each touch over his prostate. The fine dark hairs that were scattered below Carver's navel were glistening with precum.

Nate sat back and swiped his slick hand over his cock, fisting his erection tightly. He groaned and watched Carver lick his lips as if he was remembering taking Nate's cock into his mouth.

With one hand braced next to Carver's head, Nate used the other to guide himself into the younger man. There was a small resistance at first and Nate waited, gently pushing the head against his elfroot slicked hole.

"Relax," Nate murmured. He felt it the moment Carver did, his body opening up and allowing Nate to slide inside.

"Shit…" Carver hissed, his neck bowing back.

"Hurts?" Nate asked him quietly.

"No…" he panted. "Feels good. Maker, you feel…"

"How about this?" Pulling back, Nate snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep inside Carver.

Carver's breath hitched in his throat, and he panted through kiss-swollen lips. "More," he demanded. "Give me more."

"Everything," Nate answered. As soon as he said it, the words flying unbidden, he knew that he meant it. No matter what it took, he was going to make sure that Carver came back to him. That Carver was going to have a reason to want to come back to him.

He started a languid rhythm, grinding Carver into the mattress below him. Sweat broke out on his back as he worked his cock in and out, the muscles on his arms and thighs straining with each thrust.

Carver let go of the pillow and grabbed his own legs, holding them behind the knees to raise him higher. Nate watched as arousal took over Carver's features, darkening his eyes as his pupils grew wide and the way he took his bottom lips between his teeth.

"Maker, yes!" Carver moaned.

Nate leaned down and kissed him, taking his cries into his mouth. Every moan, every sigh of need was Nate's to have. There had always been a bit of Isabela that had been held back from Nate. He had always known that, but he hadn't realized the lack until now. This was what it was like to share yourself with someone, to make love to them without a guarded heart. He had been as much to blame for what had happened between him and Isabela. He had been just as distant. They may have shared their bodies, but not their hearts.

It was such a silly, fanciful thought, that Nate smiled against Carver's lips. He pulled back enough to see Carver grinning at him as well.

Carver let go of his legs and wrapped his arms around Nate's neck, pulling him closer until their chests were crushed together. Their bodies rolled against each other, Nate's cock shuttling in and out of the younger man.

He had just enough presence of mind to push a hand between them, encircling Carver's cock with a tight grip. With barely three strokes, Carver was screaming against Nate's lips, semen jetting out to paint their abdomens.

The way Carver looked just then, his face open and vulnerable, did Nate in. With a few thrusts far harsher than any of the others, he gritted his teeth and came, his cock pulsing inside Carver's clinging backside.

When Nate made to pull away, Carver locked his legs in the small of his back, preventing him from moving. "Don't go just yet," he croaked.

Nate chuckled softly. "I'm not going anywhere."


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you to Cypheroftyr for looking over this chapter and the next few chapters for me! Go read her Dragon Age fics on this site. <3

It took them two weeks to make the trek to the walls of Minrathous. Armies were slow moving, and one as large as the one that had made its way across the border to Tevinter even more so.

The dwarves had beaten them there by days, having used the Deep Roads, and were waiting when the armies of Thedas arrived. They had already begun collapsing tunnels under the city, cutting off any avenue of escape.

Tevinter knew they were there. An army of this size did not move quietly. Minrathous had known for a week what was heading in their direction. As they had passed by farmlands and small villages, they had been empty, their crops stripped from their fields. Tevinter was not going to feed the army, was not going to allow them to loot from the land. The gate had been closed and barred, and on top of the walls of the city, war machines and guards looked down at them.

When the army had made camp in front of the massive walls, an emissary had immediately been sent out from behind the locked and barred great gates.

Anders had to admit, he was more than delighted to see who it was.

"Imp! Fancy seeing you here. Would you like some wine? Fenris found some in a quaint, but empty, village we passed by." He was seated behind a long table in the command tent with Aedan and Zevran. Anders thought that everyone should have a tent like this one. Rugs had been rolled out on the ground and were soft against Anders' bare feet. He had taken his boots off just to feel the fibers between his toes. There was wine and food lined up on the table, amidst maps and scrolls. It was much better than the small canvas tent he and Fenris shared. Maybe when this was over Aedan would let him have it. You know, because Aedan was a nice guy and all.

His stomach rebelled as he speared a piece of cold ham with a knife and popped it into his mouth. Maybe his stomach was still weakened from his days spent under the influence of magebane, or maybe it was Plinius' presence. Anders was betting on both.

Plinius narrowed his dark eyes on Anders. "I was hoping you had perished on your way to Weisshaupt.

"Sorry," Anders grinned. "No wait, I'm not sorry. Tell me, did you get demoted? I bet you're not the favorite of the Archon now. What with letting me escape and all."

Plinius twitched his crimson robes, as if there was something foul in the tent that might contaminate the fine fabric. "I am here, am I not? The Archon trusts me as always."

Anders waved his knife at the magister. "Now, now, no lies. Emissaries have a nasty habit of getting killed by opposing armies. Even I know that one."

"I don't see the slave with you. I thought the two of you were never to be parted." Plinius' lips curled in a sneer.

"I don't own slaves, but if you mean Fenris, then he's off doing Fenris things. Don't worry your not-so-pretty head about it." They had dragged the Eluvian with them, hauling it in a well-guarded cart. Fenris was helping the Elvhen use it to bring their army to them. As they spoke, the Elvhen were spilling out of an innocuous tent placed in the center of camp.

Aedan stepped in front of Plinius, blocking his line of sight to Anders and drawing him back to his purpose. "Tell the Archon to surrender the city to us. We will have no other terms." He waited for Zevran to translate, impatiently tapping his fingers on the pommel of his sword.

Anders rolled his eyes. Who thought it was a good idea to let Aedan negotiate? Oh… that's right, because they weren't really here to negotiate, and Aedan was the best one to make that clear.

Plinius tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Then you and your army will perish. We will not be dictated to by pretenders to the Archon's seat. We know you have Gaius Clavis with you, as well as Cato. We do not care what they told you in order to join their cause. Our terms are just as simple. Leave or find your bones ground to dust with so many others at the walls. We will not hesitate to use the Juggernauts. Our walls have stood for centuries, and they will stand for more."

Glancing over his shoulder at Anders, Aedan gave him a look of pure boredom. He sighed and looked back to Plinius. "Yeah? Well they told me that I couldn't unite Ferelden, and that I would die if I tried to kill the Archdemon. I don't know why people like to tell me I can't do something. It only makes me want to prove them wrong."

"I know who you are, Hero of Ferelden. The Archon is not impressed. You will have one day to quit the field."

"Did he just say he wasn't impressed with me?" Aedan asked Zevran when the assassin finished translating.

"I am sorry, my dear Warden," the elf replied. "He did. If it makes you feel any better, I am always impressed with you."

"I am too!" Anders piped up from behind him. "Oh, fearless leader."

"Anders," Aedan sighed, "you're impressed when Pounce manages to lick his own ass."

"Well, he is a bit big now a days. I miss my baby."

"Let's just get this over with." With that, Aedan pulled his sword free and pointed it at Plinius. Anders didn't even bother to hide his delight at the way the magister backed up. "You have twenty minutes to leave my camp, or else I'll carve you up and send you back to the Archon in pieces. We're not leaving. Tevinter thinks it can dictate to the rest of Thedas. Thedas is here to show you why you can't."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Anders. "You kidnapped one of my Wardens, and I don't take very kindly to that. If I didn't need to follow these inane protocols of war, then I would take your head now and send it in a lovely box to the Archon, courtesy of the First Warden."

"You're a fool," Plinius spat. Yet for all his words, he still turned and practically fled the tent, the guards falling into step behind him.

"Make sure he leaves!" Aedan called out to them. "If not then drag him back to me."

Anders stood up and clapped. "That was beautiful! I'll give you a blowjob if you go after him and cut off his limbs anyway."

Aedan ignored him, but Anders didn't miss the way his eyes had heated slightly at the thought. "Are you and the others almost ready to leave?" he asked instead.

"Way to bring the mood down, Aedan." Anders wrinkled his nose. "We've hit a bit of a problem. Rhys is insisting on coming with us. Fenris isn't too happy with the idea. He thinks he's up to something."

"Worshiper of Flemeth?" Aedan cocked an eyebrow at the mage. "Why would he think that Rhys is up to something? Flemeth has been so forthcoming with us," he said dryly.

"So I take it he's coming with us then?" Anders asked.

"If he can get the job done, then I don't care about his reasons at this point."

* * *

Fenris lifted the hood of his dark cloak up, and adjusted the folds so it covered his sword. If he had to draw it he was going to have to pull the dark cloak off first. As it was, it didn't do it a very good job at concealing the hilt shaped bulge on his back. What it did do, was shroud his face in shadows. Anders had a similar cloak on, and he grumbled as he raised the hood.

Nate and Carver were whispering to each other in hurried tones at one end of the tent that enclosed the Eluvian. Carver was wearing a nondescript armor just as Cullen and Fenris were. Marian and Anders were dressed in simple mage robes, Marian's staff on her back. In place of a staff, Anders had a sword belted to his side. It had been given to him by Wynne, and she had assured him that some great arcane warrior had wielded it once. Fenris didn't know if that part was true or not, but when he came close to it he could feel the magic in the steel pulling at his brands in an answering hum.

Anders might not be the best swordsman, but he didn't need to be. Fenris had worked with him on and off for years, and Anders was competent enough. It was the magic that would really do the damage needed to defend him. When Anders had told him of how he had escaped the Archon's Tower, Fenris couldn't have possibly been more proud.

"Anders!" Nate called over. "Can you translate something for us? Two Wardens in the armory said something to Carver and it's been driving him crazy."

"Anderfels?" Anders asked.

"It's not what they said, it what they did," Carver protested. The two men walked over to Anders and Fenris. "One of them pinched my cheeks, said something, and then they both laughed. I was there to get armor, not to be accosted."

Fenris folded his arms over his chest and grinned under his hood. "This I need to hear." They were waiting on Zevran, and the elf was taking his sweet time. Fenris understood it, though. He was sure it had less to do with Zevran and more to do with Aedan. The First Warden was not taking his lover leaving without him very well. Rhys hadn't shown yet either, but Fenris was more than willing to leave without him.

"Wait, one of the men in the armory pinched your cheeks?" Marian asked. She didn't even bother to fight her grin.

Carver rolled his eyes. "It was a woman. There were two of them."

A burst of laughter escaped Anders. "Tanya and Laurie I'd be willing to bet. What did they say? One of them slapped my ass once when I walked by. I don't think there is a male or female in Weisshaupt that is safe from them." Carver repeated it in broken Anderfels and silence fell over the tent.

"Wait," Anders said carefully, "did one of them tell you that you were a silly boy? I… I…"

Carver tossed his hands up and glared at Anders as the mage doubled over in laughter. "Laugh all you want. Those women are a menace if what you say is true. What in the Void are they doing in the armory if they act like that?"

Fenris actually knew the answer to that one. "Because they know their craft. They can size a Warden up and outfit them quicker than any other."

"They can size them up," Anders started, "because they like to look at—"

"All right, stop! Maker's balls…" Carver murmured. "I'll just be thankful I escaped with my virtue intact."

With the way that Nate was watching Carver while the younger man spoke, Fenris had a feeling that what little virtue Carver had left was gone now. He was happy for his friends, but he couldn't help but notice the small hint of fear in the Warden-Commander's eyes.

He would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that he was a little frightened of what was to come for them all. He knew the ferocity of the magisters, and he knew what they were capable of when backed into a corner. But even if Fenris wanted to, there was no turning back now.

Aedan walked into the tent, a grim expression on his face, followed by Rhys and Zevran. He stopped in front of the Eluvian and turned to look at them each in turn. "You go in, get Malcolm and the control rod, and then get out. The dwarves and the few darkspawn that the Architect have gathered will be waiting at tunnel entrances scattered throughout the city in case you can't get back to an eluvian. You are not there for revenge." He specifically looked at Fenris and Rhys. "You are there to do three jobs-Malcolm, the rod, and come back alive. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Daddy," Anders said.

Aedan scrubbed at his faced with his hands. "Anders, you know I love you, right? But I swear to the Maker, you make me want to strangle you."

"You already did once, remember?" Anders blurted out.

Fenris closed his eyes and was grateful for the hood that covered his mortified features. Outside of the four of them, no one knew what they had done together before leaving Weisshaupt. Fenris meant to keep at it that way. It was no one's business.

Thankfully, Aedan did nothing more than blink before turning back to the rest of them. "Good luck. You will have two hours before we attack."

Zevran launched himself at Aedan, wrapping his legs around the taller man's waist and crushing their lips together. Rhys bypassed them and walked over to the Eluvian. The Elvhen were far more adapt at controlling the mirrors. If anything good came from his presence, it was that they would be able to get in and out of the city that much quicker.

Dropped back to his feet, Zevran gave Aedan one last kiss before checking to make sure that his daggers were secured at his hips. "Keep the bed warm for me, my Warden," he told Aedan. "You will show them why I stay with you, yes? Kill many magisters for me."

"And people think I'm bloodthirsty," Aedan chuckled.

"They have not had sex with you against a boulder after a battle. You cannot blame them for their ignorance." Zevran sobered. "I mean it, Aedan. Do not die on me."

In reply, Aedan reached into a small pouch at his waist. He held out his hand and opened his fingers. A small earring sat in his palm, blue gems flickering in the light of the Eluvian. The images in the Eluvian stopped their rapid movement, so much quicker than what Fenris had been capable of. The storeroom they had entered from the last time they had been in Minrathous, sat waiting on the other side. Zevran gave Aedan a small smile and was the first to go through it to scout ahead.

Aedan clutched the earring in his palm and let out a shuddering breath, before he turned and strode from the tent, his back ramrod straight. Fenris knew that Aedan had to go. If he were in the First Warden's position, he would have sat in front of the mirror waiting for Anders' return, fuck what was happening around him.

Marian and Cullen went next, the two of them stepping through the mirror without a backward glance. Marian had had a look on her face that Fenris had seen many times before. It spoke of determination and anger. Maker, help whoever had her child. They certainly wouldn't get any mercy from his parents.

Fenris had the realization that they were going to save the child that was responsible for giving Anders to him. If it hadn't been for Malcolm, then Marian would never have felt the need to hide the true nature of his paternity by colluding with Anders. Without Malcolm, Fenris wouldn't have felt the need to follow Anders everywhere in order to find out what the two of them were hiding. He wouldn't have gone into the Deep Roads to keep Anders safe. He wouldn't have become tainted. He wouldn't have met Nathaniel. Because of Malcolm, Anders had sacrificed himself to save Marian, letting the Templars take him. So much had happened because of that child, life's strange little twists and turns. Maybe he and Anders would have come together eventually, but the path would have been longer, and fraught with bitterness. Everything felt like it was coming full circle. To save a child, Anders had risked all. Now here they were, years later, prepared to do the same thing again.

In his periphery, Fenris saw Nate and Carver embrace and kiss. His lips twitched into a smile. He was going to make sure they all came back from this, these people who he owed everything to.

Carver took a step back, turning reluctantly away from Nate, before walking through the Eluvian and out of sight. That only left Anders, Rhys, and Fenris. He jerked with a start when Anders' fingers slipped down and entwined with Fenris' own.

"Ready, Love?" Anders asked.

"Yes." And together they walked into the portal.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS INCOMING

Minrathous was in chaos.

The seven of them ran through the city streets, weaving through the crowd of fleeing people. They weren't running from an oncoming war, they weren't barring the doors to their houses to escape what awaited them on the other side of the wall that encircled the city. As they pushed pass the oncoming wave, forging deeper into the heart of the city, everyone, from slave to magisters, young and old, rich and poor, had the same look of terror on their faces.

"We're almost there!" Zevran shouted behind him. He was leading them on, pushing against the relentless stream in the streets.

Anders held tightly onto Fenris' hand, feeling the cold bit of steel from his gauntlet. No one stopped to look at any of them twice, except what was necessary to get by them. The people of Minrathous had other worries besides a few odd looking strangers.

They had waited in the storeroom for almost an hour while Zevran slipped out to scout ahead. It hadn't occurred to Anders until well into their wait that the shop was silent. It was the middle of the day, and there should have been at least someone here. It was Carver who had opened the door to peek out, finding the shop empty.

When Zevran returned, it hadn't been alone. A rat like man named Tatius was with him. Carver and Fenris had seemed to know him, and that had been the only reason that Anders had relaxed some of the tension in his shoulders.

With little explanation, Zevran had told Rhys to activate the Eluvian to allow Tatius through. With a few whispered words to Tatius, Zevran had sent the little man right into the center of their camp, clutching a piece of parchment in his hand.

When the mirror had gone silent once more, plunging them into near darkness, Zevran had explained what his informant and former colleague had told him.

In exchange for safe passage out of the city, Tatius had told Zevran exactly what they had needed to know. That the control rod was currently with the Archon, on his very person, and that Malcolm was with him as well.

But as with everything in life, it wasn't going to be as simple as getting to him.

The city was in political and physical chaos. After they had escaped from Minrathous, the Archon had installed a crony as the new Black Divine. The Black Divine had in turn, declared that the Maker had come to him, and told him that Therion was his representative on Thedas, that he alone would usher Tevinter into a golden age.

Alone…

The Archon had dissolved the senate, slaughtering half of them, and giving those that had supported him the wealth of the fallen.

It had all taken place in a matter of days.

Magisters had been dispatched all over Thedas. Plans had been enacted that had been in place for years. In a month, the Archon had not only destroyed Minrathous, but he had spelled doom for Tevinter.

Which had led them out to the streets the, forcing their way through the crowd as the people of Minrathous fled the Coliseum. The Archon was there. Malcolm was there. The control rod was there.

So was the horror that the Archon had enacted.

He had forced the whole city to watch, emptying out the houses and shops. No one had been exempt. The Coliseum had been filled to bursting in order to watch the spectacle that would raise the Archon up. The arena floor had been covered with lyrium, shining brightly under the noon day sun. In the center lay an altar, draped in chains, and elven slaves had ringing the edges. The elves had been made to fight one another for their freedom. Those that had refused had been slaughtered outright, their bodies stacked in a gruesome pile. In the end, one elf had won, painted in the blood of her brethren, bleeding from numerous wounds.

It was she that had been strapped screaming to the altar. It had been this nameless woman that had had burning lyrium seared into her flesh while the Archon chanted. The people of Minrathous weren't fools. They all knew the stories. They all knew what he was doing while an army awaited on their doorstep. The magic that the Archon had wrought had almost killed him Tatius had said.

When it was over the people had fled, knowing that their end did not await them outside the walls, but within.

Abominations roamed the streets, called up from the Fade by frightened magisters. There was the constant din of screaming, and the tang of blood filled the air along with the acrid stench of demons. Still the seven of them forged on, determined to reach the Archon before he used his newly made Key, before he left this world entirely.

Anders' free hand gripped the hilt of his sword as the Coliseum rose up in front of them. Considered one of the greatest architectural achievements of its time, it now would be remembered as the place where the Archon had reached above himself to seize power that should never have been touched. The crowd was thinning now. Most of the populous had escaped and were rushing towards their homes to cower in fear.

Anders didn't blame them. There was something in the air, a finality to it all. One couldn't help but feel it leeching into their skin, crawling over their psyche.

Zevran led them into one of the many openings into the Coliseum, moving through a maze like series of stairs and door ways that had Anders disoriented. They burst out into the light, each one of them frozen in horror at the sight below them.

Tatius hadn't exaggerated. The arena floor was a mess of congealing blood and dead bodies. The lyrium that had covered the ground had been spent, and Anders couldn't get his mind to comprehend what kind of magic it had taken to do such a thing to so much lyrium. Next to him, Fenris and Rhys both cursed.

"This is what they did to my brother," Rhys hissed between clenched teeth. "Monsters."

They will never stop," Fenris growled. "We must put an end to this or die trying."

"Over there!" Marian cried. They followed her pointing finger to one side of the arena. There were four figures huddled together. Two humans, a nude elven woman with a shock of white hair to her waist, tinted red with blood, and a small boy.

"Malcolm," Marian breathed. She was off before any of them could stop her, racing through the bench seating made out of hard marble.

"Shit." Cullen chased after her, his sword leaving its scabbard.

The rest of them weren't far behind, Rhys and Zevran making quicker time by leaping over the seating with cat like grace. They caught up to Marian as she reached the edge, placing her palms on it without stopping and jumping over it to land with a roll to the ground. Then she was on her feet again, racing across the arena, her staff in her hands and a scream on her lips.

"Give him back!"

* * *

When the battle engaged, Aedan made sure he was right in the thick of it. It took Nate and Alistair to drag him back from the wall, telling him that losing himself in a fight wasn't going to bring Zevran back any quicker.

The magisters on the walls summoned demons to the ground below, while the soldiers lobbed arrows and fiery boulders at the invading army. On the other side of the city, the Qun were busy with a fight of their own, cutting off Minrathous from the sea. Isabela had gone with them, and the irony didn't escape those that knew her. The Arishok had had an armada waiting, hidden from Minrathous' prying eyes.

The Templars and the mages were assigned to various units, aiding them with healing and dispatching the demons.

The demons were relentless.

But the magisters hadn't counted on the darkspawn. They swarmed from tunnels dug around the city, breaking free from the earth. The horde that the Architect had created were just as viscous as the demons. Ogres thundered across the battlefield, flinging friend and foe alike from their path. In a twisted way, this was as much their fight as it was the rest of Thedas. Tevinter had created them, and it was time they saw what their arrogance had done.

Aedan strode back to the command tent, ripping his gauntlets from his hands in angry jerks. He slapped them down on the long table that had less food than it did before, and snatched at a piece of wrinkled parchment. His eyes scanned the contents, as if the elegant lines would say anything different than it had before.

Zevran and the others knew where the control rod was. They knew where Malcolm was. Oh, and the Archon was insane and had created another Key.

P.S. Tatius gave us the information. Please make sure that he has safe passage from the battle.

P.P.S When I return, I'm going to make sure that you find me in your bed wearing nothing but that earring. Your guess is as good as mine where I will be wearing it.

Aedan smiled. Zev would come back to him, his Crow always did.

* * *

"We need to shoot him down," Sebastian said. He lowered the spyglass that Sigrun had lent him and collapsed it with a snap.

"I recognize him." Nate nodded towards the direction of the magister on the wall, directing the others. "He was the emissary that the Archon sent."

"Should've killed him," Oghren grumbled. He hefted his blood covered axe over his shoulder. Can't reach the blighter now, can we?"

"Wasn't he one of the magisters that took Anders?" Sigrun asked. "Anders was muttering about it when he left.

"That he was, Beautiful." Varric smiled at her. "Seems he needs extra killing for that.

Plinius stood high on top of the wall, his rich robes making him stand out, a perfect target if only they could reach him. While killing him wouldn't stop the onslaught of demons and spells, it would demoralize the blood mages on the wall. The problem was that even if someone could reach him, they would have to get passed the swarm of demons right below.

Lizette and Leliana's last report had said that they had only suffered minimal losses so far, but that was only because the bulk of the army were on the outer edges of the fray. Once the darkspawn had been let loose to battle the demons, the army had moved back. Eventually the darkspawn would be overrun and the army would be forced to fully engage.

They needed to kill Plinius before that happened.

He would eventually be replaced, but it would buy them the time they needed during the chaos that would ensue, to finish off the rest of the demons and move forward.

"I can do it."

The group turned as one to glance at Denerou. The normally quiet elf gave them a crooked grin. He nodded towards the bulk of the demons. "I've hit targets further before."

"You're a fool." Morrigan slammed the bottom of her staff on the ground to emphasize her point. "You might make it in there, but you won't make it out alive."

"Does it matter?" he asked her. "I've said I can do it, and I can. He needs to die. Soldiers without a commander are disoriented for a time."

"These aren't soldiers," Morrigan hissed. "These are magisters, you stubborn elf. They will strike you down the second your arrow is loosed."

"Then that's my problem, isn't it?" Denerou pulled his bow free from his back, his fingers running over the intricately carved wood. "If I die, then I want Merrill to be the one to see to my body. She'll know what to do."

Morrigan threw her hand in the air and turned her back on him, striding away. "Why must I persist in conversing with the foolish? Have your heroic death, tis no concern of mine," she called over her shoulder.

"Denerou," Nate started. He had known the elf for years, had fought with him in the Deep Roads. He and Fenris were friends. "You don't have to do this." But Nate knew that Denerou was right. He didn't need his ego stroked, and knew that the dalish was a far better archer than Nate had ever been. If there was anyone that could make the shot, it was him.

Denerou gave Nate an elegant bow. "I've never called any of my Warden brothers and sisters shemlen," he said as he straightened. "We Wardens are all short lived, are we not? Besides, you've been more of a family to me than my clan was. Thank you for showing me new things and for letting me see the world as I wished to."

Blowing out a resigned breath, Nate shook his head. "Don't tell it to me, tell it to Aedan when you come back. He's the one that recruited you when you showed up on our doorstep. Go and take your shot, Warden. Come back alive."

"Wait!" Sebastian pulled his bow free and held it out. "This is the Starkhaven longbow. It once had belonged to my grandfather, and it has served my family well. Take it."

Denerou glanced from the bow that Sebastian offered to his own, then back again. He licked his lips in the first show of nerves. "Thank you. I'll bring it back to you." The two men traded weapons, and Denerou ran his fingers over it and gave it a few experimental tugs.

"I've seen Choir Boy shoot bandits dead from several paces away with that. You can't miss now," Varric declared.

"Velanna will be so angry if you died." Sigrun wrapped her arms around Denerou's waist. "And you wouldn't want to make her angry with you."

Denerou chuckled. "No, we wouldn't want that. I promise to try not to die."

"No one is going to die," came a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Wynne step out from the command tent. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

Fenris ducked the fireball that raced over his head, slamming into the Templar in front of him, sending him flying across the arena. The drained shards of lyrium shattered on impact, dust billowing in the air. He heard Anders laugh and the tightness in his chest loosened. Anders liked to cut things a little too close at times. Fenris wondered if the mage did it on purpose, or if that was just the way he fought.

Anders was definitely enjoying himself.

Therion and Lucretia had hauled the stumbling elven woman and Malcolm through a doorway, making their escape when they saw Marian running towards them. Malcolm had let out a frightened shout, his hands reaching out for his mother before he disappeared from sight.

That had been right before the Templars had shown up.

The Templars of Tevinter had always been ineffectual, but these were under the command of the Archon now. They had stood by and allowed him to do his dark ritual, and now they were his living shields, a barrier between him and those that wanted to stop him.

No matter how much Anders' views had relaxed since he and Justice had parted, he was still getting a chance to kill Templars without repercussion. Another fireball zipped by, close enough that Fenris could feel the searing heat on his face.

Rhys was a blur of blue light, striking too quickly for any of them, let alone the Templars, too see, while Zevran disappeared and reappeared all over the arena, his daggers finding weaknesses in the Templar's armor.

They might be able to silence Marian and Anders, but they couldn't stand against two Templars that had more experience fighting than they did. The Templars of Tevinter were little more than an honor guard to the Black Divine. Carver and Cullen moved as one unit, coordinating attacks as if they were part of some macabre dance. They spoke using signals born of fighting together for years, cutting down one Templar after another.

Behind him, Marian and Anders cast spells to throw the Templars off guard, while Fenris prevented them from getting too close.

The moment the last Templar fell, Marian was off again, her staff in her hand, chasing after her son. Fenris had just enough time to flick blood away from his sword before he followed her with the others.

If the upper levels of the Coliseum were a maze, then the lower parts that ran under it were a veritable labyrinth, mean to trap the unwary and keep them lost for eternity. Yet Marian seemed to know where she was going, and none of the others were going to stop and ask how. She held her staff in front of her, only occasionally slowing down at junctions before glancing at it and making a decision where to turn.

"Locater spell," Marian huffed as she ran. "Created it a long time ago when Malcolm liked to hide from me. He thought it was hilarious when I couldn't find him for hours and would be in a panic. Damn Viscount's Keep. It's too big. Doesn't work until I'm within a certain distance of him."

She practically flew down a series of stairs that spiraled deeper into the bowels of the Coliseum. The air was dank and reeked of death. No wonder the Archon had chosen this place. How many had died here over the centuries? Fenris remembered that Aedan had told him that the Veil was always thinner in areas that had seen much death. Now the Archon had added more to it.

Fenris meant to see his death as the last.

She threw a door open and burst inside an empty room lit with torches. Her feet slid into a halt, and Anders almost slammed into her, stopping himself by placing a hand on her shoulder. In front of them, Therion had the elven woman by her hair, gripping it tightly.

And Lucretia had a dagger to Malcolm's throat.

* * *

Aedan followed Denerou and Wynne's progress with the spyglass, his knuckles white against the brass. Demons and a few darkspawn threw themselves at the shield that Wynne had erected around them, and already Aedan could see that she was flagging, although the shield held strong. There were several bright flashes of familiar blue from the edges of the battle, and Elvhen darted into the thick of it, cutting through the demons and creating a path for Wynne and Denerou. It wouldn't last long, and they could do nothing to prevent the arrows and spells that rebounded off the shield.

Denerou abruptly stopped and glanced back at Wynne before nocking an arrow to the Starkhaven bow. He pulled, sighting down the shaft, his stance perfect and controled. His lips moved, and the shield dropped as he let the arrow fly. Aedan yanked the spyglass up as he lost sight of it, locking onto Plinius instead. The magister jerked, his lips hanging slack in midsentence, before crumpling to the ground, feathers bursting from his forehead.

"Shit," Aedan cursed as he looked back to where Denerou and Wynne were. "Come on… Get that dammed shield back up."

But it was too late. Denerou staggered back, the bow falling from his fingers as a bolt of lightning slammed into him. Aedan watched helpless as he fell to the ground, Wynne stumbling to his side, dropping to her knees.

Wynne looked around at the oncoming demons, and then down to Denerou. Her face set in grim lines, and apprehension swept over Aedan.

"Don't do it, Wynne," he whispered, as if by will alone she could hear him. "Don't do—"

Blue light burst forth from the mage, obscuring her and Denerou, enveloping them completely.

* * *

The thing about being a Grey Warden was that there weren't too many perks. Of course, they never told you that before you drank the foulest concoction known to man, and Anders had sipped from one of Oghren's brews once.

Archdemon blood and magic still tasted worse.

It shortened life spans. That is, if you even lived long enough to slowly turn into a ghoul. Retirement was a joke, and either way you looked at it, you were going to die by darkspawn.

There was the fact that you could fuck for hours, but that only really was worthwhile if your partner could. Otherwise you might actually hurt them.

But the benefit, the thing that had them gaining a resistance to the taint, was that they could feel the darkspawn when they were close.

Just like now.

Anders, Fenris, Carver and Zevran exchanged looks of understanding. All four of them could feel the same thing. The dwarves had not only collapsed some of the escape tunnels under the city, but they had left a few open, guarding them to lead people out if they were civilians, controlling the flow.

All but one.

That one tunnel had been the providence of the darkspawn. It had been close to the tunnels they had gone through to get to Minrathous, and Lucretia was edging closer to the entrance. She reached behind her and slapped a palm over an innocuous stone, all without removing the dagger or taking her eyes off of Marian. Stone grated against itself as a hidden door swung open.

Anders was a little bit afraid of Marian himself right now. Anyone in their right mind would be.

Malcolm stared with yearning, wide eyes at his mother as tears tracked down his cheeks. His lips moved in a silent, 'Mama', and Marian took an unconscious step towards him.

"Give him to me and I'll make your death quick," Marian promised through clenched teeth.

Lucretia laughed, the sound ringing false in Anders' ears. "Such talk in front of a child."

"Malcolm has heard worse from his Aunty Izzy," Marian spat. "Stop using a child as a shield and face me like a woman, you bitch."

Therion was engrossed in watching in the exchange between the two women, so he missed the shadow that edged silently towards him.

Lucretia backed up towards the yawning entrance of the tunnel. "I don't think so. I think I'll keep him. Maybe someday I'll let him write to you and have him tell you how much he loves his new mother."

A shadow loomed behind her, and long, inhuman fingers that ended in talons reached out hovering on either side of Lucretia's head. She might not have seen them, but everyone else in the room did, including Therion.

"Lucretia! Look—"

His warning came too late. The talons dug into her skin and she screamed in horror as rivulets of blood poured down her face. The Architect used no magic when he jerked her head to the side, effectively snapping her neck with a sickening crunch. The dagger clattered to the ground along with her lifeless body, and Malcolm raced to his mother, flinging himself at her, sobbing into her neck.

There was a surprised shout, and Anders jerked his eyes over to the Archon. Zevran backed away from the Archon, twirling a small rod between his fingers. "Don't let your skills get rusty my old Crow Master was fond of saying." He skipped backwards. "I killed him in the end, but his advice was sound."

"It doesn't matter. Take the rod, take the city. Let your pet darkspawn raze it to the ground." Therion spat. "Enjoy your victory for what little while you have it." He shook the woman by the hair and she whimpered in pain. "All of Thedas will tremble before me."

Never one to stand idle, Carver raised his sword in an offensive position and rushed at the Archon with a cry. Therion smiled at him, his beard twitching with the movement. He raised his free hand, palm out, and a burst of power slammed into the young Warden, sending him flying to crash against the wall behind him.

"I am the Archon," Therion intoned. "You cannot hope to win." He hauled the elven woman to her feet. The lyrium that had been freshly laid into her skin was weeping blood around the edges. Her eyes were glazed with pain and fear. Anders chanced a glance over at Fenris and saw the way his lover's jaw tightened in anger. Had it been the same way for Fenris? Had he awakened to blood, pain and confusion? Anders knew the answer to that was a resounding yes. How Danarius had done it without pulling off the spectacle that the Archon had created, Anders didn't know. He doubted that very few people knew the answer to that anymore.

"You are a fool," Fenris snapped. "Torturing a poor woman for your own selfish gains. It will come to naught. The Gate is guarded once more. You won't make it past him."

Therion laughed, the sound filled with triumph. "I know of Justice. Just as I know you released him back to his former post. I have knowledge of how my ancestors trapped him while they slipped into the Golden City."

A fissure of fear raced down Anders, tightening his skin as the air froze in his lungs. They had to prevent Therion from using the elf. Even if that meant she had to die.

Fire erupted on Anders' sword, and he exchanged a quick glance with Cullen, the Knight-Commander nodding in understanding. The two men ran at Therion, Anders with his fiery blade, Cullen with a prayer to the Maker, asking him for aid.

But just as they reached him, the smite falling from Cullen's lips, the Archon made his move. He jerked the woman's head to the side and whispered a word into her ear. Her brands ignited as she screamed in terror and pain. Anders was momentarily blinded, and he almost missed the Architect rushing forward, grasping the woman's arm in his hands before the three of them vanished out of sight.

The smite erupted from Cullen a second too late, and Anders let out a cry of rage, slashing at the place where Therion had once stood with his sword. "Fuck!" he whirled around. "Maker, damn it!"

His eyes landed on Fenris, took in the stubborn set of his jaw, and the steel hardness of his eyes. Anders knew then, he knew what Fenris was going to do. "No…" he whispered. "Love—"

Fenris turned to face the others. "Run. Get Malcolm out of here and the rod to Aedan. If you can't find him, there is a golem in camp by the name of Shale. She will know how to use the rod."

He turned to Rhys, speaking quickly in Arcanum. "Go with them. Zevran will know the way back to the Eluvian. If you can't get to it, he also knows where the tunnels are."

Rhys grinned at Fenris. "You're trusting me to get your friends back safely, young elf?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Don't make too much of it."

"We're not leaving without you," Marian insisted.

"We have no choice." He glanced away from Marian, unable to meet her eyes. "You have been a good friend to me, better than what I deserved at the time. Save your son, Marian."

Marian buried her face in Malcolm's light brown hair, squeezing her eyes shut. "I didn't do anything Fenris. It was always you. I…" Her tear filled eyes opened. "Thank you. For everything." Without another word she turned to race out the door, Malcolm clutched tightly in her arms. Cullen followed her after a respectful nod of his head.

"You pull this off and Aedan and I will reward you, yes?" Zevran gave him a wicked grin full of promise. "We will have more fun together the four of us. I couldn't sit down correctly for days." He gave them an elegant bow and left the room.

"I do not want to know," Carver muttered. "I'll just thank the Maker that I am no longer near any of your rooms." His expression sobered. "Go kill the bastard."

Rhys was the only one left besides Anders. He dug a hand into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a medallion. He held it out by its silver chain, the metal winking in the torchlight. "Take this, for luck." He turned and tossed it to Anders who caught it in midair. "I take it you won't be leaving without your mage. May the Dread Wolf be at your side and not at your back."

And then he was gone.

Anders glanced down at the medallion. It was nothing more than an unadorned silver disk. He jerked his eyes up at Fenris. "Damn right you're not leaving without me. I'm not going to do that again."

Fenris gave him a warm smile and held out his hand. "I wasn't planning on it."


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS
> 
> I have marked the beginning of the ending with a * for those that do not want to read the deaths part.

Therion hadn't lied when he'd said he had a way to trap Justice. The spirit was nowhere to be found when they had entered the Fade.

Neither was anyone else.

That fucking plateau that Anders and Fenris had seen time and time again, floated in the disordered world of the Fade. Fenris wondered if it was ingrained in their psyche now. The Fade took on the whims of those that inhabited it.

"We're too late." Anders strode around the plateau, kicking up dust as he went. "Maker, help us. I think they're already in the city."

Drawing in a slow breath through his nose, Fenris shook his head. "You should go. I'll take you back."

Anders whirled around on him, an incredulous expression on his face. "The fuck? Oh, no, we aren't doing this. What happened to not leaving without me?"

"That was before we knew they were already in the city. We don't know what's in there, Anders."

"All the more reason to stay together. Don't pull your protective bullshit on me, Fenris. I got myself out of the Archon's Tower, remember?" Anders strode over to him and placed a gentle hand on Fenris' cheek. "I love you, and I know you worry about me, Love. Now take us to the Black City."

Fenris leaned forward and crushed their lips together as his brands flared to life. He used the feel of Anders against him, the warmth of his lips, the taste of him on his tongue as a way to prevent his mind from screaming, telling him that his body couldn't handle what he was doing.

Blue, iridescent light enveloped them as they embraced. Fenris felt the snap in the Fade, and he knew the door had opened. Still, he kissed his lover. Whether unable or unwilling to stop, he didn't know or care. He was dimly aware that there should be some irony in what they were doing. Mages had chased Fenris across Thedas in order to use him, to force him to do what he had been created for. Now he was willingly doing just that. But Anders wasn't a magister. Anders didn't want power, or to use Fenris.

The difference was palatable, and Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat.

It was Anders who broke the kiss, glancing over Fenris' head. "It's time."

It occurred so quickly, that Anders didn't realize what had happened at first.

Even before they had stepped through the Gate they had both felt it. This feeling of trespassing in a place that mortals were not meant to be. It felt like Anders' skull had become too tight, squeezing his brain as his mind tried to comprehend what he was looking at. He had balked, for the barest moment before stepping inside the Black City.

If the city had ever been Golden, it wasn't now. It seemed dead, like a blackened skeleton left to decay into dust. Their footsteps made no sound on the onyx floor. Anders tried to concentrate, to focus his eyes on anything in the massive room, but his mind rebelled and he would invariably be forced to look away.

He and Fenris gripped each other's hands tightly, needing the feel of something solid, something real in this disorienting place.

It was no wonder that they didn't see Therion ahead of them. It was no wonder that they missed the spell that flew from his staff.

And it was no wonder that Anders only knew he'd been hit when the pain took him to his knees.

He glanced down, his mouth slackened in shock. Blood had splattered to shine wetly across the dark floor.

_That's too much_ , Anders thought dully. _That's too much…_

He could hear Fenris screaming his name, his lover's clutching at his shoulders. Anders leaned gratefully back as Fenris' hands ran over Anders' face, tilting it up so that the mage could look at him.

_I'm going into shock_ , Anders thought. He opened his mouth to tell Fenris this, but he couldn't seem to make his lips move. His tried to glance down the length of his body, but Fenris firmly tilted his face back.

"Don't look," Fenris choked. Tears were spilling freely down the elf's face, his features twisted with grief and pain.

"Don't…cry… love…" Anders rasped. "Heal…"

Fenris shook his head, a choking sob escaping his lips. "Too much…" His lips curled into a snarl. "I'll rip him apart for this."

"That's… my… Fenris…"

As Anders slipped away, the last thing he felt was Fenris' lips on his own, and his lover's tears on his face.

* * *

Fenris' body shook in silent sobs. He couldn't make himself look down Anders' body. He knew what it looked like, had been right next to him when it had happened. The spell that the Archon had unleashed had sheared through Anders' right side, reducing it to a mass of shredded flesh and spraying blood.

Anders was a great healer, but no one could fix what the Archon had done.

Fenris opened his mouth and a scream erupted from his lips. He screamed until he didn't have air left in his lungs, until his throat was burning and raw. He sat on the floor, panting for breath as he looked into Anders' vacant eyes.

Rage like nothing that Fenris had ever known before welled up inside him. He pressed a quick kiss to Anders' slack lips and stood, his sword in his hands. With a cry, his brands ignited. He lost himself in the lyrium, in his connection to the Fade. Rhys had told him that Fenris had to let go of his fear. His one fear had always been to lose Anders, and that was gone now, Therion's spell obliterating it along with his lover.

The Black City snapped into focus. Little details that Fenris had been unable to center on became clear. He saw the enormous empty throne at one end of the room. He saw the Architect and Therion battling each other, slinging spells back and forth. He saw the elven woman collapsed in a heap on the floor, forgotten by her master.

But it was Therion that caught Fenris' attention. With a thought he was at the Archon's side, slipping in and out of the Fade to move quicker than the eye could follow. The magister turned in surprise and his hands flew in front of him, erecting a shield as Fenris' sword came down.

* * *

Anders stared down at his body in horror. He jerked his head to the side, following the battle. He took a few steps towards Fenris, his hands outstretched, when he stumbled to a halt, slamming against some sort of barrier. He pounded his hands against it, his mouth opening to scream Fenris' name.

"You can't walk away from your body," said a voice from behind him. "Silly, but true all the same. They can't hear or see you either."

Anders spun around and gaped at the figure behind him. "You… You're a talking wolf. A very large wolf, but uh…"

The wolf's tongue lolled out in a parody of a laugh. "Sorry, I missed my old skin. Is this better?" Golden light shimmered around the wolf. When it dissipated a woman stood in its place.

"Flemeth…" Anders breathed, or would have if he were still capable.

"I will forgive you stating the obvious because you are recently dead," she chided. "I have to admit, I did not expect to see you and Fenris here. Rhys was the one that had been tasked with the medallion."

So many things clicked into place, slotting together to form a much larger picture. "A small piece. Isn't that what you told Hawke? You wanted into the Black City," he accused. "All of this bullshit was to get you back here."

She laughed, the sound ringing in a way that other noises in the room couldn't. "You think too small. In part, but I could have had someone bring me here in a myriad of other ways. I just needed to be here for this moment."

"What are you talking about? What moment?"

"Life is full of moments," she replied. "Threads that are woven together to create a tapestry. A thread out of place, a different choice in color, and the picture changes. The fall of the magisters is one such thread. Aedan Cousland bringing the armies of Thedas together, Feynriel to urge Cato into seeking the Elvhen, Rhys to teach Fenris what he could do, Fenris to realize his potential so that he can fulfill his purpose. It's all a part of the tapestry that I wove, thread by thread."

"That doesn't make any sense," Anders burst out. "You said Rhys was supposed to be here."

Flemeth laughed again. "He is marked as one of mine, and he does as he wills. I would not be surprised to find that Rhys decided that Fenris was up to the task more than he was. If I had done this without the chaos that the Archon had sown, without the tearing down of the magisters, or bringing the Elvhen back then there would be little reason for it."

"What if you were wrong?" he asked. "What if Aedan had died at any point, or any of us for that matter?"

"Then I would unravel and start again," she assured him. "I have been here since the First. I am nothing if not patient."

Anders glanced over his shoulder where the battle was taking place. Fenris was bleeding from a head wound, the blood staining his hair. The Architect had one hand clutched ta his side, dark blood pouring between his fingers. "How is any of this worth it?" Anders whispered. "All of this pain and suffering…"

"Would you have asked me that years ago when you wished the mages to be free? Freedom is worth almost any price. I condemned my siblings by my actions. I separated them from the mortals. Only Hope and I remembered what we once had been. We are the First and we had forgotten our Father's words to us-we needed to adapt, to create. Justice has learned that lesson. Only by his association with you was he able to learn, to feel things other than his function. Faith knows this. As we speak, my sister has left her vessel and is inhabiting another. What she will learn from him, not even my Father can know. My time with the mortals has taught me this as well."

"That's why you wanted the Archdemon in a child, isn't it? You wanted Beauty to come to the Fade after he'd felt emotions other than what he'd been created to encompass." As the full scope of Flemeth's plans came to light, Anders found himself remembering every little thing that had done over the years, every little move by them all. "If Aedan hadn't taken up Morrigan's offer, you would have just waited until the next Blight." It wasn't a question and he didn't even bother to state it as such.

"My, you are a quick one. Tower training didn't strip that from you at least." Her golden wolf-like eyes stared at him unflinching. "So many of my brothers and sisters were lost, locked in their dragon forms and filled with madness even before the magisters came to the Golden City. I was the one that did that to them. I wish to save the few that are left. I mean to set them free."

"That's what you needed Fenris for." Anders said flatly. "He's more than just the Key to the city. He's the Key to unlocking the prisons you put the First Children in."

"Ah…" Flemeth breathed. "Now you understand. Unlocking the prisons will require one of mine. I was the one to create the prisons, one of mine have to be the one who will undo it. The change to Thedas will be monumental. I needed a world already in flux. The Grey Wardens had to have a leader that would be willing to work to bring the remaining Archdemons home. The Chantry needed people that were able to challenge them, to work towards creating understanding."

"I can't tell if you're insane or a genius," Anders muttered.

Flemeth threw back her head and laughed. "Hope would agree with you."

"I do." A woman appeared next to Flemeth. She waved unnaturally long fingers at Anders, and gave him an almost blinding smile. "But my broth—" She ran her eyes over Flemeth. "Sister this time… My sister has ensured that she will have her way. The pieces are in play, and there is no turning back now."

Hope was beautiful. She looked like every painting of young innocence, and when she smiled, Anders felt some of the tension ease out of him.

"You two have spoken long enough. It's time for Anders to go." Hope held out her hand towards the mage.

"No!" Anders gestured behind him toward Fenris. "I won't leave Fenris. What will happen to him?"

The smile Hope gave him was full of… hope. "Don't worry. Fenris still has his part to play. You're part is over with." She drew up to him. "Sleep, Anders. Your time is done." Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his.

And Anders knew no more.

* * *

Fenris didn't think. There was no room for it. Cold anger had frozen any feeling or thought. He didn't feel the pain in his body from a myriad of wounds. Fenris felt nothing except rage. He didn't dwell on his lover's lifeless body, or the war that was taking place in the mortal world. None of those things mattered as much as the urge to feel Therion's heart in his hand.

If he let himself think of Anders, even for a moment, then Fenris would cease to function, his mind collapsing in on itself.

Therion was strong. He was the Archon of Tevinter and a magister that had never hesitated to use blood magic to obtain what he wanted. All of Tevinter either loved or feared him. But demonic magic wouldn't help him in the Black City, and the magister was beginning to flag from the double onslaught of the Architect and Fenris.

When Fenris' sword slipped passed Therion's barrier for the first time, the elf knew he had him. He slashed at Therion's arm, slicing it open to the bone. The magister screamed in surprised pain. Taking the element of surprise he let his sword slip from his hands, falling to the floor without a sound. With a cry, he shoved both of his hands into the Archon's chest. He let the magister fell every second of pain, his clawed gauntlets tearing through bone and lung to get to his black heart. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat that Fenris felt against his bared palms, Therion's eyes glazed with fear.

"No…" Therion gurgled.

"If I could, I would make this last," Fenris hissed, his face twisted with pain. With a quick jerk and a spray of blood, he pulled the organ free, Therion collapsing to the floor.

Fenris stood over the corpse of the Archon of Tevinter, blood soaked and panting. He felt paralyzed, unable to know what it was he was supposed to do now. Slowly he turned his head, his eyes unerringly finding Anders' body.

Reality crashed through him and pain bloomed over his body, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep on his feet. His hands clawed uselessly on the floor, great wracking sobs tumbling from his lips.

So many memories crashed through his mind. He and Anders fighting, bickering the second they saw each other. Fenris following Anders because he was sure that the mage was hiding something from him. Anders caring for him on the ship to Ferelden. The first time they kissed. The first time they made love. The first time Anders told Fenris that he loved him. How Anders would always have something inappropriate to say, a crooked grin on his face. Waking up to see Anders had taken over his half of the bed, oblivious to Pounce lounging on his chest.

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but the memories kept coming. The promises they had made together. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He and Anders were going to make love one final time, and then drink wine laced with deathroot. Anders hated the Deep Roads, and Fenris didn't want him to go there during his last moments on earth. When Anders' Calling came, they were going die to in each other's arms.

Gone… All of it gone now.

He wasn't aware of the Architect checking the elven woman, feeling that her pulse was faint, but still there. He didn't see Flemeth appearing behind him, her fingers hovering over his back in regret before pulling it away.

"You're not finished here."

Fenris slowly lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at her. "Leave me."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "What? No questions as to what I'm doing here?"

"I care not." Snatching his sword from the floor, Fenris staggered to his feet and pushed passed her, stumbling towards Anders' body.

"Would you rather die falling on your sword next to him, or doing something that would actually help all of Thedas?" she called after him.

Fenris paused in mid step and whirled around towards her. "Fuck you. You put these circumstances into play. His blood is on your hands."

"Not only his," Flemeth admitted. "My soul, if I have one, is stained with it. You can stop the Blights. You can ensure that mages will shake off the stigma of the magisters."

"How do I know these aren't more of your lies," Fenris hissed.

"Why do people persist in thinking I lie? I have been honest with you. Whether or not I have held information back is another topic for debate. You have the ability to free the First, to free the Archdemons from their prison. Once their song ends for the darkspawn, the darkspawn will cease trying to find and taint them."

"But the darkspawn will still be alive," Fenris countered. "They will still create more."

"And the Grey Wardens will continue on, ever vigilant," she replied. "Think of the lives you will save."

Fenris' teeth ground against each other. "Why should I care what happens out there? I do not plan to leave this place."

"And you won't," Flemeth said sadly. "Once the lock has been turned, the Key will be consumed."

Out of reflex, Fenris' hand went to his wrist, pressing his gauntlet down to push the bracelet of Anders' hair into his skin. Anders would have done it. Anders who had only ever wanted to help others. If it had been Fenris dead on the floor, Anders would have told Flemeth yes without hesitation.

There were times when Fenris thought that Anders was the better man of the two of them.

A tear slipped free at the thought, and he swallowed heavily. "What must I do?"

"There is one last door in the Black City. Find it and push, just as you have done before. Do not hesitate and be fearless. One of mine must know themselves enough that they will do what must be done."

Fenris nodded once and dropped his sword. He turned and stumbled over to Anders, dropping to his knees next to his lover. He caressed Anders' face, closing the mage's eyes so that he seemed as if he was sleeping. Except when Fenris laid his head on Anders' chest, he knew it for the lie it was. There was no comforting heartbeat, no rumble as the mage laughed at one of his own jokes. Fenris turned his nose into Anders' chest inhaling deeply one last time the scent of elfroot and lyrium.

Then he let go.

* * *

*

The battle of Minrathous was over in just one day. The Army of Thedas had control of the Juggernauts, and without their Archon, the city surrendered, throwing open their gates. The city itself was in chaos for almost a year. Cato had been reinstated as the Divine, and he had campaigned for Gaius to become the new Archon. The citizens had seen what the last Archon had done. Therion's cronies were rounded up and executed for colluding with him to destroy the Senate. It would take years more before Tevinter was even remotely stable.

The Wardens Christopher and Merrill helped to install a new Circle of Magi, in conjunction with the Divine Justinia V. Using what Anders and Wynne had built upon, they carefully made changes to how the Circles were run. New rules were put into place. Mages were allowed to see their families, and the Harrowing had been declared unnecessary. Mages with nothing to fear tended to not turn to blood magic.

Years later, Starkhaven and Kirkwall were united when the Viscount's son and Princess Vael were married. The celebration lasted a month in both cities, and the Hero of Ferelden made an appearance, using the opportunity to reunite with old friends.

It would be the last time anyone saw Aedan.

One day Aedan and Zevran disappeared, leaving only a short note explaining that the First Warden was heeding the Calling. For the next few years, more Wardens followed suit. Nathaniel Howe was first, leaving Carver behind and instilling him as Warden-Commander. Soon Oghren, Sigrun, Velanna and others took their last trek into the Deep Roads.

The only one exempt was the Warden Denerou.

Denerou had left the Wardens and taken the journey to Arlathan. His merging with Faith had saved his life, and the Elvhen had extended an offer to help him.

When Sigrun left for her Calling, Varric had locked himself away for a month. When he emerged it was to publish what would be his greatest book 'A Dwarf's Courage'. It was an enthralling tale of a female dwarf who while facing adversity as one of the Legon of the Dead and then a Grey Warden, never lost her smile and sweet nature. Those that knew him never question the inspiration, or his dagger that he named Sigrun.

Morrigan went to live in Arlathan with her son Aedan. She frequently sent her son to Weisshaupt using the power of the Evluians. She and the Architect made great strides in finding a cure for the taint, but they never got any further than lengthening the lives of the newly Joined, changing the spell. It would do nothing for those who had already partaken.

The darkspawn changed.

The reports were slow to trickle in, but once they did, the Wardens saw the pattern. The only one who knew what had happened in the Black City was the Architect, and he had told only Aedan Cousland the tale. Of how Anders had died, and Fenris had killed the Archon in retribution. He had told Aedan that Flemeth had appeared, urging Fenris to help her one last time. The city was Golden once more, and the Architect had been pushed from the Fade by the power of Fenris opening the door, the elven woman with him. He had seen and heard enough, though.

All over Thedas, people's dreams were a little brighter. Only those that knew what Fenris had done understood why. Fenris had released the First, bringing them back to their full glory.

* * *

_Seheron_

Adelric awoke with a start, a scream half dying on his lips. He sat upright, the sweat on his skin cooling. He shivered and buried his face in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing and his rapid heartbeat.

It had been so long since he'd had one of those dreams, that he'd finally thought he'd gotten passed it. Ever since he'd been a small child, the nightmares had plagued him, showing him images of horrifying creatures that crawled out of the earth to devour all in their path. When he'd been younger, his mother had climbed into bed with him, and held him close until his terrified sobbing had abated.

He hadn't had her when he had gone to the Circle.

He still had seen his parents and brother once a month when they had come to visit, but that had not helped when night had fallen. As he'd grown older the nightmares had slowed down, disappearing for a time all together. In their place were dreams of adventure, of friends that he could never quite make out.

There also had been his lover.

Adelric would wake up hard and aching, his hands stealing under his blankets before his roommates could wake up and catch him. He had hated those dreams as much as the nightmares. It didn't matter who he was with, they never seemed to capture the intensity and love that his dream lover was capable of. Adelric couldn't help but compare, and his lovers in the waking world had always been found wanting.

It hadn't been fair of him, he had known that.

He sighed and threw back the covers. Getting to his feet, he padded naked to the washbasin. Maker, Seheron was hot. When Medwin had asked him to come to represent the Anderfels at a wedding, Adelric hadn't known what he was getting into. He'd gone from one extreme to another-from the biting cold of Hossburg in the Anderfels, to the searing heat of Seheron. He gingerly touched the back of his neck. Less than three hours in the city and Adelric had gotten himself quite a sunburn, his fair skin baking under the relentless sun.

But he had to admit to himself, that even if he had been aware of just how hot it was going to be, he wouldn't have turned down the chance to leave the Anderfels. Adelric had always wanted to go traveling, to see the world that he'd only read of in books. Medwin, being the fine king and excellent brother that he was, knew this and had offered to have Adelric go in his place.

Adelric thought that Medwin had known how fucking hot it was, and hadn't wanted to brave it.

He glanced over to the well-stuffed chair next to him. His dress robes were all laid out and freshly pressed. Fuck… The last thing he wanted to do now was go to a wedding. Not when he still felt the aching hole in his chest.

His dream this time had felt so real, more so than any before. There had been blood, pain, and such loss, that Adelric could still feel the agony in his throat. Closing his eyes, he drew in a slow breath to center himself. He had more important things to worry about, like not making an ass out of himself. There were parties to go to afterwards, and he had to make an appearance at each one.

It was times like this that solidified his decision to turn down the throne. His father hadn't been too happy about it, but he'd understood. Adelric just didn't have the temperament for it. He was all cocky smiles, and inappropriate jokes. When he'd come of age and left the Circle, he'd opened up a clinic in Hossburg to cater to the poor, people that couldn't afford to go to the Chantry for healing. He liked his work and hadn't wanted to leave it.

Besides, Medwin was a far better king. Adelric freely admitted that.

After their parents had died, and Medwin had taken the throne, Adelric had fallen into a pattern. Each day he would wake up and make the trek to his clinic, where he would spend most of his time training the healers and taking patients. He would then head back to the palace, eat, and go out once again, hitting up the taverns.

His work fulfilled him. Rambling around Hossburg looking for a fuck didn't.

He'd needed to get away for a time, get his head straight. Maybe that's why he was having the dreams again. His subconscious was trying to tell him something, and Adelric could be damned if he could figure it out.

The wedding was beautiful. It took take place in gardens filled with brightly colored flowers that flourished in the unrelenting sun of Seheron. Adelric was seated with the other dignitaries behind the bride and groom's families. A tall man with dark hair and arms that bulged with muscle sat next to him. Occasionally he would lean over to whisper something into a blonde elf's ear, a smile on his lips.

Adelric had a suspicion they were lovers.

As the Grand Cleric droned on, Adelric found his eyes wandering. He'd never been good at sitting still for very long. It had gotten him into trouble more than once in the Circle. He glanced to his right, his eyes skimming over the hired bodyguards. They were there more for show than actual security, a way for the groom to tell his bride's family that he could protect her if need be. Some sort of Seheron tradition.

It was silly. Adelric had met a woman once, with dark skin and a smirk on her lips, that would have laughed if someone told her that she couldn't protect herself. Then she would have stuck a dagger in their chest for the trouble.

Good times. He'd shown her his electricity trick when he'd met her. When he'd woken up the next morning he'd found her place in the bed empty. He hadn't even gotten her name.

As his mind wandered, Adelric's eyes tripped over one of the guards. It took his brain a moment to catch up, and when it did, his gaze shot back to him.

Maker above! He knew he was staring like a mabari catching sight of a tasty haunch of meat, but shit…

The elf had dark hair that shone red under the noonday sun. His armor was deep black, jutting out in sharp spikes. His feet were slightly parted and planted firmly into the gravel, his arms crosse dove rhis chest. Adelric hungrily traced over his features, his eyes landing on full lips and olive skin. But it was when the guard glanced up, and their eyes caught, that Adelric knew that the wedding just got a lot more interesting.

It took him four hours to track the elf down after the wedding. He'd been able to get a name, but nothing more. Leto. He was infamous in Seheron for being more than competent with his sword. He worked for no single person, but if one was able to meet his exorbitant price then he was intensely loyal. Having him at the wedding had raised the groom in the bride's family's eyes.

Adelric smoothed down his rich, blue robes. The reception was in full swing and he'd as of yet found Leto. A small voice in the back of his mind that he liked to refer to as Medwin, told him that he wasn't there to try and seduce handsome elves.

Adelric promptly told the voice to shut up. There was always time to seduce handsome elves.

The argument won, Adelric turned the corner down a long, but empty hallway. The house was massive in size, decorated in all the splendor a wealthy wine merchant could afford.

Maybe Adelric should have paid better attention when he'd been told his host's name.

As he passed by an open door, he didn't see the hand tipped in claws that shot out to grasp the back of his robes. He let out an undignified yelp as he was yanked back into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Why are you following me?"

Adelric gaped at the elf that had his robes twisted in his hands. Scratch that. There was always a time and a place to seduce a handsome elf that spoke like what sex sounded. He licked lips suddenly gone dry and flashed :eto a crooked smile that never seemed to fail to elicit giggles from the whores of Hossburg.

Not only was Leto not a whore, he narrowed his eyes as well.

"Have you seen you?" Adelric blurted out. _Oh, nice one!_ He thought to himself with no small amount of distain. _Why not ask him if he has some mage in him, and would he want some?_

"Excuse me?" Leto released him and took a step back. "Do I know you?"

"No," Adelric replied honestly. "But you could." _Please say yes. Please say yes._

"You've been asking about me. What do you want?" Leto tilted his head to the side, staring Adelric down with his intense, green eyes. Adelric's breath caught. The room they were in was a small study, and the only light were a few flickering candles. The flames made Leto's eyes glitter brilliantly, small flames that Adelric couldn't look away from.

The ache was back in his heart, the all-consuming despair. He never quite remembered his dreams, only bits and pieces. But the feelings always lingered, weighing him down. As he stared at Leto, he felt tears prickling the back so his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to force them back.

This was a mistake.

"I…" Adelric sucked in a shuddering breath. "Nothing, excuse me." He turned to open the door when Leto grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back around.

Leto had first noticed him when the young prince had been seated at the wedding. He couldn't take his eyes off the man. There was something about him, something that scream, 'I know you'. They had met before, Leto was sure of it. But the memory eluded him, no matter how hard he tried to grasp at the slippery strands.

When the wedding was over, his job had been finished. Varania and his mother had scolded him when he'd told them how much they'd been willing to pay him in order to stand and do nothing for an hour. He'd reminded them that it was much better than taking a contract for something he would have to actually use his sword for.

Still he'd lingered at the reception, silently following the mage that had caught his eye. He was wary around mages as a whole. Once he'd taken a contract in Minrathous that had resulted in one of the worst experiences of his life. Danarius had been cruel to his servants, treating them like slaves. In the end, Leto had been forced to kill the man when he'd found Danarius raping a young elven woman on top of the body of her husband.

The Imperium hadn't liked that. It had taken two months for Leto to clear his name and come back to Seheron.

Ever since then, mages had left a bad taste in his mouth. He only dealt with magisters that had recommendations from former clients. No longer would he work for someone that walked up to him with a pouch full of glinting gold.

And he certainly didn't fuck them.

But there was something about this mage that casually wandered the ballroom, asking subtle questions about who Leto was. At first, Leto had thought that Adelric had been someone sent from Minrathous for retribution, but his own questions put those fears to rest.

Prince Adelric of the Anderfels. Born a mage and sent to the Circle when he was twelve. Older brother to the current king, he had willingly stood aside to let the more qualified man rule.

None of those things had told Leto why he should feel as if he knew the man.

"Why do I feel as if I know you?" Leto asked him. He pulled Adelric closer, careful not to puncture his fine robes with his gauntlet.

Adelric's eyes widened just a fraction. "Do you believe in fate?"

Leto snorted. "Are you trying to come on to me?"

"No!" Adelric paused and then nodded. "Well, yes. But I can do better than that. Usually..." He muttered the last under his breath. "I just mean… I…" He let out a cry of frustration. "Look, you're not with anyone, are you?"

"With anyone?" Leto repeated slowly.

"I just…" Adelric's eyes ran over Leto's face, dropping down to latch onto his lips. "Fuck it," he mumbled before leaning down and taking the elf's lips in a kiss.

Leto let out a muffled cry of surprise. The feel of Adelric's lips moving over his, the mage's taste, the scent of elfroot and lyrium…

Something broke inside Leto, something he hadn't even known was there. His hands slid up Adelric's shoulders of their own volition, pulling the mage close. Leto wasn't the kind of man that slept with people he barely knew. He was intensely private, and the few lovers he'd been with, had never touched anything inside him.

But this kiss, this kiss from a foreign prince that he didn't even know, was tearing Leto apart. It was madness in the extreme.

The kiss broke and Leto found himself chasing Adelric's lips with his own before he knew what he was doing. He felt his ears heat in embarrassment and he jerked back away from the man. "You… Why… What…"

Adelric laughed, the sound full of joy. "Yeah… Me too." He held out his hand. "My name is Adelric, some people call me Anders. By some people I mean everyone. It started as a joke in the Circle, and the nickname stuck."

Leto stared at the offered hand as if he'd never seen one before. His eyes slowly traveled upwards to meet warm, brown eyes. "Leto." He hesitated and then gripped Adelric's hand in a firm handshake. "They call me Fenris."

"Wolf…" Adelric grinned. "Fits you."

Leto couldn't believe that they were having this conversation, as if his world hadn't just been turned upside down. Things like this didn't really happen. A single kiss from a stranger didn't just change everything.

But as he took in Adelric's earnest smile, he knew that's exactly what had happened.

_One month later._

Adelric hurried down the busy streets, weaving through the thick market crowd. His pack was slung over one shoulder and it bounced against his hip with each stride.

Medwin was going to be _pissed_.

Not only had Adelric ditched the reception, but he hadn't made it to any of the parties he was supposed to have attended over the past month. It was his brother's fault really. Adelric couldn't be blamed for spending the past few weeks in bed with Leto. Anyone who saw the elf wouldn't blame him for that. Leto had even gifted Adelric with a kitten. A _kitten_! How could Adelric do any other than to give him as many blowjobs as the elf could take after that?

As if the kitten could read his thoughts—and Adelric had always maintained that they could—he popped his head out of the opening in the pack and meowed in his ear.

"I know, Pounce," he huffed out as be started to run. "I'm late. I knew this would happen, but we had to let Leto have some time with his family before we set sail."

Turning a corner, he skidded to the halt in the street and whirled to the right. He knocked impatiently on the door of the large, but modest, house. Almost hopping from foot to foot in his excitement, he couldn't keep the grin off his face when the door opened.

Leto stood on the threshold, a small pack in his hand. "You're late. I've been ready for an hour."

Adelric was momentarily struck dumb, as he always was when Leto peered at him with those wonderful green eyes. Most of the trees in the Anderfels were like the rest of the country, dense and hearty, built to withstand the freezing cold temperatures and harsh earth. Until he'd come to Seheron, he'd never seen the myriad shades of green that the world had to offer.

Leto's eyes were his favorite by far, seeming to shift in color with his mood.

Leaning down, he took Leto's lips in a deep kiss. Even though it wasn't his fault that he'd missed the parties—Adelric was firm in his belief it was Medwin's somehow—he was still going to have to thank his brother for sending him. If he hadn't, Adelric would never have met Leto. He never would have kissed him, made love with him, felt what it was like to be with someone that not only compared to his dream lover, but exceeded him in all ways. Adelric felt complete with Leto, and he wasn't about to let that go.

He pulled back and gave Leto a crooked grin. "I love you." It hadn't taken long for those words to leave Adelric's lips. A mere week after they first met. The whole thing was insane, but the two of them were going with it, not wanting to part from the other.

"I love you too," Leto whispered. "But we have to go. Our ship is leaving soon."

Adelric hesitated. "Are you sure? Leaving your family behind? You don't have to. I could figure out a way to come back, to stay with you."

Leto rolled his eyes. "I am sure. Varania and mother practically begged me to go so I would stop speaking of it. It's not as if I won't see them again."

A bit of tension hat Adelric hadn't know he was carrying leaked out of him. He held out his hand. "Ready to run away with me, Love?"

Leto shook his head, but Adelric didn't miss the small smile that played around his lips. He intertwined their fingers. "Always."

Hope grinned up at Justice as they watched the two men hurry down the street towards the docks. "See? The two of them never gave up hope. Not in each other, and not in themselves. I haven't felt anything like that in so long. I had to make sure their sacrifice did not go unrewarded."

"Thank you," Justice said. "They were my friends."

"They were friends to many," Hope added. "Our Father might be gone, but his children are not forgotten."

"Will they ever remember?" Justice titled his helmeted head at her. "Or is this rebirth as far as it will go?"

"They will never remember," Hope assured him. "They might touch upon their former selves in dreams, because the Fade connects all, but no more than that. This is a place of different choices. For some, those choices might make their life worse than another place. For Adelric and Leto, the different choices of others have led to different circumstances. They will be happy here."

Justice abruptly stepped in front of her. She could feel his eyes staring at her even though his helmet obscured his face. "They are not supposed to be here, are they?"

"They are now." She winked at him. Her bother was always such a stickler for the rules. "And they won't be the only ones. Don't worry, Brother. Do you really think Father would let me do this if it wasn't his will? It matters not that they don't believe in his power or his love of his Children. He loves them regardless." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, her hand ghosting through his armor and touching the spirit. "Besides, I like happy endings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has read this series. I'm sad to see it end, but I had so much fun writing it.
> 
> Thank you to Scarlet Cougar, Cypheroftyr, Captain_Critical, and Stormdragon for helping me with these last two chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be flashbacks during this story covering the past three years.


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